THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


CHICAGO  AND   NEW   YORK 
THE  HENNEBERRY  COMPANY 


Stack 
Annex 


MS 


DEDICATION. 

THERE  arc  men  and  classes  of  men  that  stand 
above  the  common  herd :  the  soldier,  the  sailor, 
and  the  shepherd  not  infrequently ;  the  artist 
rarely ;  rarelier  still,  the  clergyman ;  the  physi- 
cian almost  as  a  rule.  He  is  the  flower  (such  as 
it  is)  of  our  civilization;  and  when  that  stage  of 
man  is  done  with,  and  only  remembered  to  be 
marvelled  at  in  history,  he  will  be  thought  to 
have  shared  as  little  as  any  in  the  defects  of  the 
period,  and  most  notably  exhibited  the  virtues 
of  the  race.  Generosity  he  has,  such  as  is  pos- 
sible to  those  who  practice  an  art,  never  to  those 
who  drive  a  trade ;  discretion ;  tested  by  a  hun- 
dred secrets ;  tact,  tried  in  a  thousand  embarrass- 
ments ;  and  what  are  more  important,  Heraclean 
cheerfulness  and  courage.  So  it  is  that  he  brings 
air  and  cheer  into  the  sickroom,  and  often  enough, 
though  not  so  often  as  he  wishes,  brings  healing. 

Gratitude  is  but  a  lame  sentiment;  thanks, 
when  they  are  expressed,  are  often  more. embar- 
rassing than  welcome ;  and  yet  I  must  set  forth 
mine  to  a  few  out  of  many  doctors  who  have 

5 


2039042 


6  DEDICATION. 

brought  me  comfort  and  help;  to  Dr.  Willey  of 
San  Francisco,  whose  kindness  to  a  stranger  it 
must  be  as  grateful  to  him,  as  it  is  touching  to 
me,  to  remember ;  to  Dr.  Karl  Ruedi  of  Davos, 
the  good  genius  of  the  English  in  his  frosty 
mountains;  to  Dr.  Herbert  of  Paris,  whom  I 
knew  only  for  a  week ;  and  to  Dr.  Caissot  of 
Montpellier,  whom  I  knew  only  for  ten  days, 
and  who  have  yet  written  their  names  deeply 
in  my  memory;  to  Dr.  Brandt  of  Royat ;  to  Dr. 
Wakefield  of  Xice ;  to  Dr.  Chepmell,  whose  visits 
make  it  a  pleasure  to  be  ill ;  to  Dr.  Horace  Do- 
bell,  so  wise  in  counsel ;  to  Sir  Andrew  Clark, 
so  unwearied  in  kindness  ;  and  to  that  wise  youth, 
my  uncle,  Dr.  Balfour. 

I  forget  as  many  as  I  remember;  and  I  ask 
both  to  pardon  me,  these  for  silence,  those  for 
inadequate  speech.  But  one  name  I  have  kept 
on  purpose  to  the  last,  because  it  is  a  household 
word  with  me,  and  because  if  I  had  not  received 
favours  from  so  many  hands  and  in  so  many 
quarters  of  the  world  it  should  have  stood  upon 
this  page  alone :  that  of  my  friend  Thomas  Bod- 
ley  Scott  of  Bournemouth.  Will  he  accept  this, 
although  shared  among  so  many,  for  a  dedica- 
tion to  himself?  And  when  next  my  ill-fortune 
(which  has  thus  its  pleasant  side)  brings  him 


DEDICATION.  7 

hurrying  to  me  when  he  would  fain  sit  down 
to  meat  or  lie  down  to  rest,  will  he  care  to  re- 
member that  he  takes  this  trouble  for  one  who  is 
not  fool  enough  to  be  ungrateful  ?         R.  L.  S. 
SKERRYVORE, 

BOURNEMOUTH. 


NOTE. 

THE  human  conscience  has  fled  of  late  the 
troublesome  domain  of  conduct  for  what  I  should 
have  supposed  to  be  the  less  congenial  field  of 
art :  there  she  may  now  be  said  to  rage,  and  with 
special  severity  in  all  that  touches  dialect ;  so 
that  in  every  novel  the  letters  of  the  alphabet 
are  tortured,  and  the  reader  wearied,  to  com- 
memorate shades  of  mispronunciation.  Now, 
spelling  is  an  art  of  great  difficulty  in  my  eyes, 
and  I  am  inclined  to  lean  upon  the  printer,  even 
in  common  practice,  rather  than  to  venture 
abroad  upon  new  quests.  And  the  Scots  tongue 
has  an  orthography  of  its  own,  lacking  neither 
"authority  nor  author."  Yet  the  temptation  is 
great  to  lend  a  little  guidance  to  the  bewildered 
Englishman.  Some  simple  phonetic  artifice 
might  defend  your  verses  from  barbarous  mis- 
handling, and  yet  not  injure  any  vested  interest. 
So  it  seems  at  first;  but  there  are  rocks  ahead. 
Thus,  if  I  wish  the  diphthong  ou  to  have  its 
proper  value,  I  may  write  oor  instead  of  our; 
many  have  done  so  and  lived,  and  the  pillars  of 
the  universe  remained  unshaken.  But  if  I  did 
TI 


12  NOTE. 

so,  and  came  presently  to  doun,  which  is  the 
classical  Scots  spelling  of  the  English  down,  I 
should  begin  to  feel  uneasy;  and  if  I  went  on  a 
little  further  and  came  to  a  classical  Scots  word, 
like  stonr  or  dour  or  clour,  I  should  know  pre- 
cisely where  I  was — that  is  to  say,  that  I  was  out 
of  sight  of  land  on  those  high  seas  of  spelling 
reform  in  which  so  many  strong  swimmers  have 
toiled  vainly.  To  some  the  situation  is  exhil- 
arating; as  for  me,  I  give  one  bubbling  cry  and 
sink.  The  compromise  at  which  I  have  arrived 
is  indefensible,  and  I  have  no  thought  of  trying 
to  defend  it.  As  I  have  stuck  for  the  most  part 
to  the  proper  spelling,  I  append  a  table  of  some 
common  vowel  sounds  which  no  one  need  con- 
sult ;  and  just  to  prove  that  I  belong  to  my  age 
and  have  in  me  the  stuff  of  a  reformer,  I  have 
used  modification  marks  throughout.  Thus  I 
can  tell  myself,  not  without  pride,  that  I  have 
added  a  fresh  stumbling-block  for  English  read- 
ers, and  to  a  page  of  print  in  my  native  tongue 
have  lent  a  new  uncouthness.  Sed  non  nobis. 

I  note  again  that  among  our  new  dialecticians 
the  local  habitat  of  every  dialect  is  given  to  the 
square  mile.  I  could  not  emulate  this  nicety  if 
I  desired ;  for  I  simply  wrote  my  Scots  as  well 
as  I  was  able,  not  caring  if  it  hailed  from  Laud- 


NOTE.  13 

crdalc  or  Angus,  from  the  Mearns  or  Galloway ; 
if  I  had  ever  heard  a  good  word,  I  used  it  with- 
out shame;  and  when  Scots  was  lacking,  or  the 
rhyme  jibbed,  I  was  glad  (like  my  betters)  to 
fall  back  on  English.  For  all  that,  I  own  to  a 
friendly  feeling  for  the  tongue  of  Fergusson  and 
of  Sir  Walter,  both  Edinburgh  men ;  and  I  con- 
fess that  Burns  has  always -sounded  in  my  ear 
like  something  partly  foreign.  And  indeed  I 
am  from  the  Lothians  myself;  it  is  there  I  heard 
the  language  spoken  about  my  childhood ;  and  it 
is  in  the  drawling  Lothian  voice  that  I  repeat  it 
to  myself.  Let  the  precisians  call  my  speech 
that  of  the  Lothians.  And  if  it  be  not  pure,  alas ! 
what  matters  it?  The  day  draws  near  when 
this  illustrious  and  malleable  tongue  shall  be  quite 
forgotten;  and  Burns's,  Ayrshire,  and  Dr.  Mac- 
donald's  Aberdeen-awa',  and  Scott's  brave,  met- 
ropolitan utterance  will  be  all  equally  the  ghosts 
of  speech.  Till  then  I  would  love  to  have  my 
hour  as  a  native  Maker,  and  be  read  by  my  own 
countryfolk  in  our  own  dying  language :  an  am- 
bition surely  rather  of  the  heart  than  of  the 
head,  so  restricted  as  it  is  in  prospect  of  endur- 
ance, so  parochial  in  bounds  of  space. 


TO 

Hlison  Cunniiuinam. 

FROM    HER    BOY. 

For  the  long  nights  you  lay  awake 
And  watched  for  my  unworthy  sake: 
For  your  most  comfortable  hand 
That  led  me  through  the  uneven  land: 
For  all  the  story-books  .you  read: 
For  all  the  pains  you  comforted: 
For  all. you  pitied,  all  you  bore, 
In  sad  and  happy  days  of  yore: — 
My  second  Mother,  my  first  Wife, 
The  angel  of  my  infant  life — 
From  the  sick  child,  now  well  and  old, 
Take,  nurse,  the  little  book  you  hold! 

And  grant  it,  Heaven,  that  all  who  read 
May  find  as  dear  a  nurse  at  need, 
And  every  child  who  lists  my  rhyme,  • 
In  the  bright,  fireside,  nursery  clime, 
May  near  it  in  as  kind  a  voice 
As  made  my  childish  days  rejoice! 

R.  L.  S. 


CONTENTS. 


To  Alison  Cunningham 3 

I.     Bed  in  Summer 9 

II.     A  Thought 10 

III.  At  the  Sea-side n 

IV.  Young  Night  Thought 12 

V.     Whole  Duty  of  Children 14 

VI.     Rain 15 

VII.     Pirate  Story 16 

VIII.     Foreign  Lands 18 

IX.     Windy  Nights 20 

X.     Travel 21 

XI.     Singing 24 

XII.     Looking  Forward 25 

XIII.  A  Good  Play , 26 

XIV.  Where  Go  the  Boats? ' 27 

XV.     Auntie's  Skirts 29 

XVI.     The  Land  of  Counterpane 30 

XVII.     The  Land  of  Nod 32 

XVIII.     My  Shadow 34 

XIX.     System 36 

XX.     A  Good  Boy 37 

5 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXI.     Escape  at  .Bedtime 39 

XXII.     Marching  Song 41 

XXIII.     The  Cow 43 

'    XXIV.     Happy  Thought 44 

XXV.     The  Wind 45 

XXVI.     Keepsake  Mill 47 

XXVII.     Good  and  Bad  Children 49 

XXVIII.     Foreign  Children 51 

XXIX.     The  Sun's  Travels 53 

XXX.     The  Lamplighter 54 

XXXI.     My  Bed  Is  a  Boat 56 

XXXII.     The  Moon 58 

XXXIII.  The  Swing 59 

XXXIV.  Time  to  Rise 60 

XXXV.     Looking-glass  River 61 

XXXVI.     Fairy  Bread 63 

XXXVII.     From  a  Railway  Carriage 64 

XXXVIII.     Winter-time 66 

XXXIX.     The  Hayloft 68 

XL.     Farewell  to  the  Farm 70 

XLI.     Northwest  Passage 72 

1.  Good-night. 

2.  Shadow  March. 

3.  In  Port. 

THE  CHILD  ALONE. 

1.     The  Unseen  Playmate 77 

II.     My  Ship  and  1 79 


CONTENTS.  7. 

AFTER.  PAGE. 

III.  My  Kingdom 81 

IV.  Picture-books  in  Winter 83 

V.     My  Treasures 85 

VI.     Block  City 87 

VII.     The  Land  of  Story-books 89 

VIII.     Annies  in  the  Fire 91 

IX.     The  Little   Land 93 

GARDEN  DAYS. 

I.     Night  and  Day 99 

II.     Nest  Eggs 102 

III.  The  Flowers 104 

IV.  Summer  Sun 106 

V.     The  Dumb  Soldier 108 

VI.     Autumn  Fires in 

VII.     The  Gardener 112 

VIII.     Historical  Associations 114 

ENVOYS. 

I.     To  Willie  and  Henrietta 119 

II.     To  My  Mother 121 

III.  To  Auntie 122 

IV.  To  Minnie 123 

V.     To  My  Name-child 127 

VI.     To  Any  Reader 130 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OP  VERSES. 


i. 

BED  IN  SUMMER. 

In  winter  I  get  up  at  night 
And  dress  by  yellow  candle-light. 
In  summer,  quite  the  other  way, 
I  have  to  go  to  bed  by  day. 

t 

I  have  to  go  to  bed  and  see 

The  birds  still  hopping  on  the  tree, 
Or  hear  the  grown-up  people's  feet 
Still  going  past  me  in  the  street. 

And  does  it  not  seem  hard  to  you, 
When  all  the  sky  is  clear  and  blue, 
And  I  should  like  so  much  to  play, 
To  have  to  go  to  bed  by  day? 
9 


10          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


II. 
i 

A  THOUGHT. 

It  is  very  nice  to  think 
The  world  is  full  of  meat  and  drink, 
With  little  children  saying-  grace 
In  every  Christian  kind  of  place. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  11 


III. 

AT  THE  SEA-SIDE. 

When  I  was  down  beside  the  sea 
A  wooden  spade  they  gave  to  me 
To  dig  the  sandy  shore. 

My  holes  were  empty  like  a  cup. 

In  every  hole  the  sea  came  up, 

Till  it  oould  come  no  more. 


12          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


IV. 
YOUNG  NIGHT  THOUGHT. 

All  night  long  and  every  night, 
When  my  mama  puts  out  the  light, 
I  see  the  people  marching  by, 
As  plain  as  day.  before  my  eye. 

Armies  and  emperors  and  kings, 
All  carrying  different  kinds  of  things, 
And  marching  in  so  grand  a  way, 
You  never  saw  the  like  by  day. 

So  fine  a  show  was  never  seen 
At  the  great  circus  on  the  green; 
For  every  kind  of  beast  and  man 
Is  marching  in  that  caravan. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  13 

At  first  they  move  a  little  slow, 
But  still  the  faster  on  they  go, 
And  still  beside  them  close  I  keep 
Until  we  reach  the  town  of  Sleep. 


11          A  CHILD  S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


V. 
WHOLE  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN. 

A  child  should  always  say  what's  true 
And  speak  when  he  is  spoken  to, 
And  behave  mannerly  at  table; 
At  least  as  far  as  he  is  able. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  15 


VI. 
RAIN. 

The  rain  is  raining  all  around, 
It  falls  on  field  and  tree, 

It  rains  on  the  umbrellas  here, 
And  on  the  ships  at  sea. 


Iti          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


VII. 
PIRATE  STORY. 

Three  of  us  afloat  in  the  meadow  by  the  swing, 

Three  of  us  aboard  in  the  basket  on  the  lea. 

Winds  are  in  the  air.  they  are  blowing  in  the 

spring, 

And  waves  are  on  the  meadow  like  the  waves 
there  are  at  sea. 

Where  shall  we  adventure,  to-day  that  we're 

afloat, 

Wary  of  the  weather  and  steering  by  a  star? 
Shall  it  be  to  Africa,  a-steering  of  the  boat, 
To   Providence,  or   Babylon,  or  off  to  Mal- 
abar? 

Hi!  but  here's  a  squadron  a-rowing  on    the 

sea — 

Cattle  on  the  meadow    a-charging  with    a 
roar! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  17 

Quick,  and  we'll  escape  them,  they're  as  mad 

as  they  can  be, 

The  wicket  is  the  harbor,  and  the  garden  is 
the  shore. 


2  Verses 


18          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


VIII. 


Up  into  the  cherry  tree 

Who  should  climb  but  little  me? 

I  held  the  trunk  with  both  my  hands 

And  looked  abroad  on  foreign  lands. 

1  saw  the  next  door  garden  lie, 
Adorned  with  flowers,  before  my  eye, 
And  many  pleasant  places  more 
That  I  had  never  seen  before. 

I  saw  the  dimpling  river  pass 
And  be  the  sky's  blue  looking-glass; 
The  dusty  roads  go  up  and  down 
With  people  tramping  in  to  town. 

If  I  could  find  a  higher  tree 
Farther  and  farther  I  should  see, 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  19 

To  where  the  grown-up  river  slips 
Into  the  sea  among  the  ships, 

To  where  the  roads  on  either  hand 
Lead  onward  into  fairy-land, 
Where  all  the  children  dine  at  five, 
And  all  the  playthings  come  alive. 


L'O  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


IX. 

WINDY  NIGHTS. 

Whenever  the  moon  and  stars  are  set, 

Whenever  the  wind  is  high, 
All  night  long  in  the  dark  and  wet, 

A  man  goes  riding  by. 
Late  in  the  night  when  the  fires  are  out, 
Why  does  he  gallop  and  gallop  about? 

Whenever  the  trees  are  crying  aloud, 

And  ships  are  tossed  at  sea, 
By,  on  the  highway,  low  and  loud, 

By  at  the  gallop  goes  he. 
By  at  the  gallop  he  goes,  and  then 
By  he  comes  back  at  the  gallop  again. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  Oi;  VERSES.  l! 

X. 

TRAVEL. 

I  should  like  to  rise  and  go 

Where  the  golden  apples  grow; — 

Where  below  another  sky 

Parrot  islands  anchored  lie, 

And,  watched  by  cockatoos  and  goats, 

Lonely  Crusoes  building  boats; — 

Where  in  sunshine  reaching  out 

Eastern  cities,  miles  about, 

Are  with  mosque  and  minaret 

Among  sandy  gardens  set, 

And  the  rich  goods  from  near  and  far 

Hang  for  sale  in  the  bazaar; — 

Where  the  Great  Wall  round  China  goes, 

And  on  one  side  the  desert  blows, 

And  with  bell  and  voice  and  drum, 

Cities  on  the  other  hum ; — 

Where  are  forests,  hot  as  fire, 

Wide  as  England,  tall  as  a  spire, 


22          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Full  of  apes  and  cocoa-nuts 
And  the  negro  hunters'  huts; — 
Where  the  knotty  crocodile 
Lies  and  blinks  in  the  Nile, 
And  the  red  flamingo  flies 
Hunting  fish  before  his  eyes; — 
Where  in  jungles,  near  and  far, 

Man-devouring  tigers  are, 

« 
Lying  close  and  giving  ear 

Lest  the  hunt  be  drawing  near, 
Or  a  comer-by  be  seen 
Swinging  in  a  palanquin ; — 
Where  among  the  desert  sands 
Some  deserted  city  stands, 
All  its  children,  sweep  and  prince, 
Grown  to  manhood  ages  since, 
Not  a  foot  in  street  or  house, 
Not  a  stir  of  child  or  mouse, 
And  when  kindly  falls  the  night, 
In  all  the  town  no  spark  of  light. 
There  I'll  come  when  I'm  a  man 
With  a  camel  caravan; 
Light  a  fire  in  the  gloom 
Of  some  dusty    jning-room ; 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

See  the  pictures  on  the  walls, 
Heroes,  fights  and  festivals; 
And  in  a  corner  find  the  toys 
Of  the  old  Egyptian  boys. 


24  A  CHILD  S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XL 
SINGING. 

Of  speckled  eggs  the  birdie  sings 
And  nests  among  the  trees; 

The  sailor  sings  of  ropes  and  things 
In  ships  upon  the  seas. 

The  children  sing  in  far  Japan, 
The  children  sing  in  Spain; 

The  organ  with  the  organ  man 
Is  singing  in  the  rain. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XII. 
LOOKING  FORWARD. 

When  I  am  grown  to  man's  estate 
I  shall  be  very  proud  and  great, 
And  tell  the  other  girls  and  boys 
Not  to  meddle  with  my  toys. 


26  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XIII. 
A  GOOD  PLAY. 

We  built  a  ship  upon  the  stairs 
All  made  qf  the  back-bedroom  chairs, 
And  filled  it  full  of  sofa  pillows 
To  go  a-sailmg  on  the  billows. 

We  took  a  saw  and  several  nails, 
And  water  in  the  nursery  pails; 
And  Tom  said,  "Let  us  also  take 
An  apple  and  a  slice  of  cake;" — 
Which  was  enough  for  Tom  and  me 
To  go  a-sailing  on,  till  tea. 

We  sailed  along  for  days  and  days, 
And  had  the  very  best  of  plays ; 
But  Tom  fell  out  and  hurt  his  knee, 
So  there  was  no  one  left  but  me. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  27 


XIV. 
WHERE  GO  THE  BOATS? 

Dark  brown  is  the  river, 

Golden  is  the  sand. 
It.  flows  along  forever, 

'With  trees  on  either  hand. 

Green  leaves  a-floating, 

Castles  of  the  foam, 
Boats  of  mine  a-boating — 

Where  will  all  come  home? 

On  goes  the  river 

And  out  past  the  mill, 

Away  down  the  valley, 
Away  down  the  hill. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Away  down  the  river, 
A  hundred  miles  or  more, 

Other  little  children 

Shall  bring  my  boats  ashore. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XV. 

AUNTIE'S  SKIRTS. 

Whenever  Auntie  moves  around, 
Her  dresses  make  a  curious  sound, 
They  trail  behind  her  up  the  floor, 
And  trundle  after  through  the  door. 


30          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XVI. 
THE  LAND  OF  COUNTERPANE. 

When  I  was  sick  and  lay  a-bed, 
1  had  two  pillows  at  my  head, 
And  all  my  toys  beside  me  lay 
To  keep  me  happy  all  the  day. 

And  sometimes  for  an  hour  or  so, 
I  watched  my  leaden  soldiers  go, 
With  different  uniforms  and  drills, 
Among  the  bed-clothes,  through  the  hills; 

And  sometimes  sent  my  ships  in  fleets 
All  up  and  down  among  the  sheets; 
Or  brought  my  trees  and  houses  out, 
And  planted  cities  all  about. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  31 

I  was  the  giant  great  and  still 
That  sits  upon  the  pillow-hill, 
And  sees  before  him,  dale  and  plain, 
The  pleasant  land  of  counterpane. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XVII. 
THE  LAND  OF  NOD. 

From  breakfast  on  through  all  the  day 
At  home  among  my  friends  I  stay, 
But  every  night  I  go  abroad 
Afar  into  the  land  of  Nod. 

All  by  myself  I  have  to  go, 

With  none  to  tell  me  what  to  do — 

All  alone  beside  the  streams 

And  up  the  mountain-sides  of  dreams. 

The  strangest  things  are  there  for  me, 
Both  things  to  eat  and  things  to  see, 
And  many  frightening  sights  abroad 
Till  morning  in  the  land  of  Nod. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN'  OF  VERSES. 

Try  as  I  like  to  find  the  way, 
I  never  can  get  back  by  day, 
Nor  can  remember  plain  and  clear' 
The  curious  music  that  I  hear. 


Verses 


34  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XVIII. 

MY  SHADOW. 

I  have  a  little  shadow  that  goes  in  and  out 

with  me, 
And  what  can  be  the  use  of  him  is  more  than 

1  can  see. 
He  is  very,  very  like  me  from  the  heels  up  to 

the  head ; 
And  I  see  him  jump  before  me,  when  I  jump 

into  my  bed. 

The  funniest  thing  about  him  is  the  way  he 
likes  to  grow — 

Not  at  all  like  proper  children,  which  is  always 
very  slow ; 

For  he  sometimes  shoots  up  taller,  like  an  india- 
rubber  ball, 

And  he  sometimes  gets  so  little  that  there's 
none  of  hrm  at  all 


"Minnie." 

Child's  Garden  of  Verses. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  35 

He  hasn't  got  a  notion  of  how  children  ought 

to  play, 
And  can  only  make  a  fool  of  me  in  every  sort 

of  way. 
He  stays  so  close  beside  me,  he's  a  coward  you 

can  see ; 
I'd  think  shame  to    stick    to  nursie  as   that 

shadow  sticks  to  me ! 

One  morning,  very  early,  before  the  sun  was 

up, 
I  rose  and  found  the  shining  dew  on  every 

buttercup ; 
But    my    lazy  little  shadow,   like    an    arrant 

sleepy-head, 
Had  stayed  at  home  behind  me  and  was  fast 

asleep  in  bed. 


.'JO          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XIX. 
SYSTEM. 

Every  night  my  prayers  I  say, 
And  get  my  dinner  every  day; 
And  every  day  that  I've  been  good, 
I  get  an  orange  after  food. 

The  child  that  is  not  clean  and  neat 
With  lots  of  toys  and  things  to  eat, 
He  is  a  naughty  child,  I'm  sure  — 
Or  else  his  dear  papa  is  poor. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  37 


XX. 
A  GOOD  BOY. 

I   woke  before  the  morning,  I  was  happy  all 

the  day, 
I  never  said  an  ugly  word,   but  smiled  and 

stuck  to  play. 

And  now  at  last  the  sun  is  going  down  behind 

the  wood, 
And  I   am  very  happy,  for  I  know  that  I've 

been  good. 

My  bed  is  waiting  cool  and  fresh,  with  linen 

smooth  and  fair, 
And   I  must  off  to  sleepsin-by,  and  not  forget 

my  prayer. 


38          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

I  know  that,  till  to-morrow  I  shall  see  the  sun 

arise, 
No  ugly  dream  shall  fright  my  mind,  no  ugly 

sight  my  eyes. 

But  slumber  hold  me  tightly  till  I  waken  in 

the  dawn, 
And  hear  the  thrushes  singing  in  the  lilacs 

round  the  lawn. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  39 


XXI. 

I 

ESCAPE  AT  BEDTIME. 

The  lights  from  the  parlor  and  kitchen  shone 

out 
Through  the  blinds  and  the  windows  and 

bars; 
And  high  overhead  and  all  moving  about, 

There  were  thousands  of  millions  of  stars. 
There   ne'er  were  such  thousands  of  leaves  on 

a  tree, 

Nor  of  people  in  church  or  the  Park, 
As  the  crowds  of  the  stars  that  looked  down 

upon  me, 
And  that  glittered  and  winked  in  the  dark. 

The  Dog,  and  the  Plough,   and  the   Hunter, 

and  all, 
And  the  star  of  the  sailor,  and  Mars, 


40          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

These  shone  in  the  sky,  and  the  pail  by  the 

wall 

Would  be  half  full  of  water  and  stars. 
They  saw  me  at  last,  and  they  chased  me  with 

cries, 

And  they  soon  had  me  packed  into  bed ; 
But  the  glory  kept  shining  and  bright  in  my 

eyes, 
And  the  stars  going  round  in  my  head. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  41 


XXII. 
MARCHING  SONG. 

Bring  the  comb  and  play  upon  it! 

Marching,  here  we  come: 
Willie  cocks  his  Highland  bonnet, 

Johnnie  beats  the  drum. 

Mary  Jane  commands  the  party, 

Peter  leads  the  rear; 
Feet  in  time,  alert  and  hearty. 

Each  a  Grenadier! 

All  in  the  most  martial  mamner 
Marching  double-quick; 

While  the  napkin  like  a  banner 
Waves  upon  the  stick! 


42          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Here's  enough  of  fame  and  pillage, 

Great  commander  Jane! 
Now  that  we've  been  round  the  village, 

Let's  g6  home  again. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  43 


XXIII. 
THE  COW. 

The  friendly  cow  all  red  and  white, 

I  love  with  all  my  heart: 
She  gives  me  cream  with  all  her  might, 

To  eat  with  apple-tart 

She  wanders  lowing  here  and  there, 

And  yet  she  cannot  stray, 
All  in  the  pleasant  open  air, 
The  pleasant  light  of  day; 

And  blown  by  all  the  winds  that  pass 
And  wet  with  all  the  showers, 

She  walks  among  the  meadow  grass 
And  eats  the  meadow  flowers. 


44          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXIV. 
HAPPY  THOUGHT. 

The  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  things, 
I'm  sure  we  should  all  be  as  happy  as  kings. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  4o 


XXV. 
THE  WIND. 

I  saw  you  toss  the  kites  on  high 
And  blow  the  birds  about  the  sky ; 
And  all  around  I  heard  you  pass, 
Like  ladies'  skirts  across  the  grass— 
O  wind,  a-blowing  all  day  long, 
O  wind,  that  sings  so  loud  a  song! 

I  saw  the  different  things  you  did, 
But  always  you  yourself  you  hid. 
I  felt  you  push,  I  heard  you  call, 
I  could  not  see  yourself  at  all — 
O  wind,  a-blowing  all  day  long, 
O  wind,  that  sings  so  loud  a  song! 

O  you  that  are  so  strong  and  cold, 
O  blower,  are  you  young  or  old? 


46          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Are  you  a  beast  of  field  and  tree, 
Or  just  a  stronger  child  than  me? 
O  wind,  a-blowing  all  day  long, 
O  wind,  that  sings  so  loud  a  song! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  47 


XXVI. 
KEEPSAKE  MILL. 

Over  the  borders,  a  sin  without  pardon, 

Breaking  the  branches  and  crawling  below, 

Out    through  the  breach   in  the  wall  of  the 

garden, 
Down  by  the  banks  of  the  river,  we  go. 

Here  is  the  mill  with  the  humming  of  thunder, 
Here  is  the  weir  with  the  wonder  of  foam, 

Here    is    the  sluice  with    the    race    running 

under — 
Marvelous  places,  though  handy  to  home ! 

Sounds  of  the  village  grow  stiller  and  stiller, 
Stiller  the  note  of  the  birds  on  the  hill; 

Dusty  and  dim  are  the  eyes  of  the  miller, 
Deal  are  his  ears  with  the  moil  of  the  mill. 


48  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Years  may  go  by,  and  the  wheel  in  the  river 
Wheel  as  it  wheels  for  us,  children,  to-day, 

Wheel  and  keep  roaring  and  foaming  forever 
Long  after  all  of  the  boys  are  away. 

Home  from  the  Indies  and  home  from  the 
ocean, 

Heroes  and  soldiers  we  all  shall  come  home ; 
Still  we  shall  find  the  old  mill  wheel  in  motion, 

Turning  and  churning  that  river  to  foam. 

You  with  the  bean  that  I  gave  when  we  quar- 
reled, 

1  with  your  marble  of  Saturday  last, 
Honored  and  old  and  all  gaily  appareled, 

Here  we  shall  meet  and  remember  the  past. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  49 


XXVII. 
GOOD  AND  BAD  CHILDREN. 

Children,  you  are  very  little, 
And  your  bones  are  very  brittle ; 
If  you  would  grow  great  and  stately, 
You  must  try  to  walk  sedately. 

You  must  still  be  bright  and  quiet, 
And  content  with  simple  diet; 
And  remain,  through  all  bewild'ring, 
Innocent  and  honest  children. 

Happy  hearts  and  happy  faces, 
Happy  play  in  grassy  places — 
That  was  how,  in  ancient  ages, 
Children  grew  to  kings  and  sages. 

Verses 


50          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

But  the  unkind  and  the  unruly, 
And  the  sort  who  eat  unduly, 
They  must  never  hope  for  glory— 
Theirs  is  quite  a  different  story! 

Cruel  children,  crying  babies, 
All  <jrow  up  as  geese  and  gabies. 
Hated,  as  their  age  increases, 
By  their  nephews  and  their  nieces. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXVIII. 
FOREIGN  CHILDREN. 

Little  Indian,  Sioux  or  Crow, 

Little  frosty  Eskimo, 

Little  Turk  or  Japanee, 

O!  don't  you  wish  that  you  were  me? 

You  have  seen  the  scarlet  trees 
And  the  lions  over  seas; 
You  have  eaten  ostrich  eggs, 
And  turned  the  turtles  off  their  legs. 

Such  a  life  is  very  fine, 
But  it's  not  so  nice  as  mine: 
You  must  often,  as  you  trod, 
Have  wearied  not  to  be  abroad. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

You  have  curious  things  to  eat, 
I  am  fed  on  proper  meat ; 
You  must  dwell  beyond  the  foam, 
But  I  am  safe  and  live  at  home. 

Little  Indian,  Sioux  or  Crow, 

Little  frosty  Eskimo, 

Little  Turk  or  Japanee, 

O!  don't  you  wish  that  you  were  me? 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXIX. 
THE  SUN'S  TRAVELS. 

The  sun  is  not  a-bed,  when  I 

At  night  upon  my  pillow  lie; 

Still  round  the  earth  his  way  he  takes, 

And  morning  after  morning-  makes. 

While  here  at  home,  in  shining  day, 
We  round  the  sunny  garden  play, 
Each  little  Indian  sleepy-head 
Is  being  kissed  and  put  to  bed. 

And  when  at  eve  I  rise  from  tea, 
Day  dawns  beyond  the  Atlantic  Sea; 
And  all  the  children  in  the  West 
Are  getting  up  and  being  dressed. 


54          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXX. 

THE  LAMPLIGHTER. 

My  tea  is  nearly  ready  and  the  sun  has  left  the 

sky; 
It's  time   to  take  the  window  to  see  Leerie 

going  by; 
For  every  night  at  tea-time  and  before  you  take 

your  seat, 
With  lantern  and  with  ladder  he  comes  posting 

up  the  street. 

Now  Tom  would  be  a  driver  and  Maria  go  to 

sea, 
And  my  papa's  a  banker  and  as  rich  as  he  can 

be; 
But  I,   when  1  am  stronger  and  can  choose 

what  I'm  to  do, 
O  Leerie,  I'll   go  round  at  night  and  light  the 

lamps  with  you! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  55 

For  we  are  very  lucky,  with  a  lamp  before  the 
door, 

And  Leerie  stops  to  light  it  as  he  lights  so 
many  more ; 

And  O !  before  you  hurry  by  with  ladder  and 
with  light; 

O  Leerie,  see  a  little  child  and  nod  to  him  to- 
night! 


56  A  CHILD  S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXXI. 

/ 

MY  BED  IS  A  BOAT. 

My  bed  is  like  a  little  boat; 

Nurse  helps  me  in  when  I  embark; 
She  girds  me  in  my  sailor's  coat 

And  starts  me  in  the  dark. 

At  night,  I  go  on  board  and  say 

Good-night  to  all  my  friends  on  shore; 

I  shut  my  eyes  and  sail  away 
And  see  and  hear  no  more. 

And  sometimes  things  to  bed  I  take, 
As  prudent  sailors  have  to  do ; 

Perhaps  a  slice  of  wedding-cake, 
Perhaps  a  toy  or  two. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  Ol    VKRSES. 

All  night  across  the  dark  we  steer, 
But  when  the  day  returns  at  last, 

Safe  in  my  room,  beside  the  pier, 
I  find  ray  vessel  fast. 


58  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXXII. 
THE  MOON. 

The  moon  has  a  face  like  the  clock  in  the  hall 
She  shines  on  thieves  on  the  garden  wall, 
On  streets  and  fields  and  harbor  quays, 
And  birdies  asleep  in  the  forks  of  the  trees. 

The  squalling  cat  and  the  squeaking  mouse, 
The  howling  dog  by  the  door  of  the  house, 
The  bat  that  lies  in  bed  at  noon, 
All  love  to  be  out  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

But  all  of  the  things  that  belong  to  the  day 
Cuddle  to  sleep  to  be  out  of  her  way; 
And  flowers  and  children  close  their  eyes 
Till  up  in  the  morning  the  sun  shall  arise. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  59 


XXXIII. 
THE  SWING. 

How  do  you  like  to  go  up  in  a  swing, 

Up  in  the  air  so  blue? 
Oh,  I  do  think  it  the  pleasantest  thing 

Ever  a  child  can  do! 

Up  in  the  air  and  over  the  wall, 

Till  I  can  see  so  wide, 
Rivers  and  trees  and  cattle  and  all 

Over  the  countryside — 

Till  I  look  down  on  the  garden  green. 

Down  on  the  roof  so  brown — 
Up  in  the  air  I  go  flying  again, 

Up  in  the  air  and  down! 


60  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXXIV. 
TIME  TO  RISE. 

A  birdie  with  a  yellow  bill 
Hopped  upon  the  window  sill, 
Cocked  his  shining  eye  and  said : 
"Ain't  you  'shamed,  you  sleepy-head!' 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  61 


XXXV. 

LOOKING-GLASS  RIVER. 

Smooth  it  slides  upon  its  travel, 
Here  a  wimple,  there  a  gleam- 
O  the  clean  gravel! 
O  the  smooth  stream! 

Sailing  blossoms,  silver  fishes, 
Paven  pools  as  clear  as  air — 
How  a  child  wishes 
To  live  down  there! 

We  can  see  our  colored  faces 
Floating  on  the  shaken  pool 
Down  in  cool  places, 
Dim  and  very  cool ; 


62  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Till  a  wind  or  water  wrinkle, 

Dipping  marten,  plumping  trout, 
Spreads  in  a  twinkle 
And  blots  all  out. 

See  the  rings  pursue  each  other ; 
All  below  grows  black  as  night, 
Just  as  if  mother 
Had  blown  out  the  light! 

Patience,  children,  just  a  minute — 
See  the  spreading  circles  die ; 
The  stream  and  all  in  it 
Will  clear  by-and-by. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXXVI. 
FAIRY  BREAD. 

Come  up  here,  O  dusty  feet! 
Here  is  fairy  bread  to  eat. 
Here  in  my  retiring  room, 

Children,  you  may  dine 
On  the  golden  smell  of  broom 

And  the  shade  of  pine ; 
And  when  you  have  eaten  well, 
Fairy_stories  hear  and  tell. 


04  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXXVII. 
FROM  A  RAILWAY  CARRIAGE. 

Faster  than  fairies,  faster  than  witches, 
Bridges  and  houses,  hedges  and  ditches; 
And  charging  along  like  troops  in  a  battle, 
All    through    the   meadows    the    horses    and 

cattle: 

All  of  the  sights  of  the  hill  and  the  plain 
Fly  as  thick  as  driving  rain ; 
And  ever  again,  in  the  wink  of  an  eye, 
Painted  stations  whistle  by. 

Here  is  a  child  who  clambers  and  scrambles, 
All  by  himself  and  gathering  brambles; 
Here  is  a  tramp  who  stands  and  gazes; 
And  there  is    the    green    for    stringing    the 

daisies! 
Here  is  a  cart  run  away  in  the  road 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  65 

Lumping  along  with  man  and  load; 
And  here  is  a  mill  and  there  is  a  river.- 
Each  a  glimpse  and  gone  forever! 


5  Verses 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XXXVIII. 
WINTER-TIME. 

Late  lies  the  wintry  sun  a-bed, 
A  frosty,  fiery  sleepy-head ; 
Blinks  but  an  hour  or  two ;  and  then, 
A  blood-red  orange,  sets  again. 

Before  the  stars  have  left  the  skies, 
At  morning  in  the  dark  I  rise ; 
And  shivering  in  my  nakedness, 
By  the  cold  candle,  bathe  and  dress. 

Close  by  the  jolly  fire  I  sit 
To  warm  my  frozen  bones  a  bit ; 
Or  with  a  reindeer-sled,  explore 
The  colder  countries  round  the  door. 


"Willie  and  Henrietta.' 

Child's  Garden  of  Verses. 


A  CHILD'S  -GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  67 

When  to  go  out,  my  nurse  doth  wrap 
Me  in  my  comforter  and  cap ; 
The  cold  wind  burns  my  face,  and  blows 
Its  frosty  pepper  up  my  nose. 

Black  are  my  steps  on  silver  sod ; 
Thick  blows  my  frosty  breath  abroad; 
And  tree  and  house,  and  hill  and  lake, 
Are  frosted  like  a  wedding-cake. 


68          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES 


XXXIX. 
THE  HAYLOFT. 

Through  all  the  pleasant  meadow-side 

The  grass  grew  shoulder-high. 
Till  the  shining  scythes  went  far  and  wide 

And  cut  it  down  to  dry. 

These  green  and  sweetly  smelling  crops 

They  led  in  wagons  home; 
And  they  piled  them  here  in  mountain  tops 

For  mountaineers  to  roam. 

Here  is  Mount  Clear,  Mount  Rusty-Nail, 
Mount  Eagle  and  Mount  High ; — 

The  mice  that  in  these  mountains  dwell, 
No  happier  are  than  1 ! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  69 

i 

O  what  a  joy  to  clamber  there 

O  what  a  place  for  play, 
With  the  sweet,  the  dim,  the  dusty  air, 

The  happy  hills  of  hay! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XL. 

FAREWELL  TO  THE  FARM 

The  coach  is  at  the  door  at  last ; 
The  eager  children,  mounting  fast 
And  kissing  hands,  in  chorus  sing; 
Good-bye,  good-bye,  to  everything! 

To  house  and  garden,  field  and  lawa, 
The  meadow-gates  we  swang  upon, 
To  pump  and  stable,  tree  and  swing, 
Good-bye,  good-bye,  to  everything! 

And  fare  you  well  for  evermore, 
O  ladder  at  the  hayloft  door, 
O  hayloft  where  the  cobwebs  clinir 
Good-bye,  good-bye,  to  everything] 


A  CHILD  S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  71 

Crack  goes  the  whip,  and  off  we  go; 
The  trees  and  houses  smaller  grow; 
Last,  round  the  woody  turn  we  swing; 
Good-bye,  good-bye,  to  everything! 


72          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


XLI. 
NORTHWEST  PASSAGE. 

I.       GOOD-NIGHT. 

When  the  bright  lamp  is  carried  in, 
The  sunless  hours  again  begin; 
O'er  all  without,  in  field  and  lane, 
The  haunted  night  returns  again. 

Now  we  behold  the  embers  flee 
About  the  firelit  hearth  ;  and  see 
Our  pictures  painted  as  we  pass, 
Like  pictures  on  the  window-glass. 

Must  we  to  bed  indeed?  Well  then, 
Let  us  arise  and  go  like  men. 
And  face  with  an  undaunted  tread 
The  long,  black  passage  up  to  bed. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  73 

Farewell,  O  brother,  sister,  sire! 
O  pleasant  party  round  the  fire ! 
The  songs  you  sing,  the  tales  you  tell, 
Till  far  to-morrow,  fare  ye  well ! 

II.       SHADOW  MARCH. 

A.11  round  the  house  is  the  jet-black  night; 

It  stares  through  the  window-pane ; 
It  crawls  in  the  corners,  hiding  from  the  light, 

And  it  moves  with  the  moving  flame. 

Now  my  little   heart    goes    a-beating   like    a 

drum, 

With  the  breath  of  Bogie  in  my  hair, 
And  all  round  the  candle  the  crooked  shadows 

come, 
And  go  marching  along  up  the  stair. 

The  shadow  of  the  balusters,    the  shadow  of 

the  lamp, 

The  shadow  of  the  child  that  goes  to  bed — 
All  the  wicked  shadows  coming,  tramp,  tramp, 

tramp, 
With  the  black  night  overhead. 


74          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 
III.       IN    PORT. 

Last,  to  the  chamber  where  I  lie 
My  fearful  footsteps  patter  nigh, 
And  come  from  out  the  cold  and  gloom 
Into  my  warm  and  cheerful  room. 

There,  safe  arrived,  we  turn  about 
To  keep  the  coming  shadows  out, 
And  close  the  happy  door  at  last 
On  all  the  perils  that  we  past. 

Then,  when  mamma  goes  by  to  bed, 
She  shall  come  in  with  tip-toe  tread, 
And  see  me  lying  warm  and  fast 
And  in  the  Land  of  Nod  at  last. 


THE   CHILD   ALONE. 


Page  76  verses. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  77 


I. 

i 

THE  UNSEEN  PLAYMATE. 

When  children  are  playing  alone  on  the  green, 
In  comes  the  playmate  that  never  was  seen. 
When  children  are  happy  and  lonely  and  good, 
The  Friend  of  the  Children  comes  out  of  the 
wood. 

Nobody  heard  him  and  nobody  saw, 

His  is  a  picture  you  never  could  draw, 

But  he's  sure  to  be  present,  abroad  or  at  home, 

When  children  are  happy  and  playing  alone. 

\ 

He  lies  in  the  laurels,  he  runs  on  the  grass, 
He  sings  when  you  tinkle  the  musical  glass; 
Whene'er  you  are  happy  and  cannot  tell  why, 
The  Friend  of  the  Children  is  sure  to  be  by! 


78  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

He  loves  to  be  little,  he  hates  to  be  big, 
'Tis  he  that  inhabits  the  caves  that  you  dig; 
'Tis  he  when  you  play  with  your  soldiers  of  tin 
That  sides  with  the  Frenchmen  and  never  can 
win. 

'Tis  he,  when  at  night  you  go  off  to  your  bed, 

Bids  you  go  to  your  sleep  and  not  trouble  your 
head; 

For  wherever  they're  lying,  in  cupboard  or 
shelf, 

'Tis  he  will  take  care  of  your  playthings  him- 
self! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  79 


II. 
MY  SHIP  AND  I. 

O  it's   I  that   am  the  captain  of  a  tidy  little 

ship, 

Of  a  ship  that  goes  a-sailing  on  the  pond ; 
And  my  ship  it  keeps  a-turning  all  around  and 

all  about; 
But  when   I'm  a  little  older,  I   shall  find  the 

secret  out 
How  to  send  my  vessel  sailing  on  beyond. 

For  I  mean  to  grow  as  little  as  the  dolly  at 

the  helm, 

And  the  dolly  I  intend  to  come  alive; 
And  with  him  beside  to  help  me,  it's  a-sailing 

I  shall  go, 
It's  a-sailing  on   the    water,   when  the    jolly 

breezes  blow 
And  the  vessel  goes  a  divie-divie-dive. 


t 
SO  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

O  it's  then  you'll  see  me  sailing  through  the 

rushes  and  the  reeds, 
And  you'll  hear  the   water  singing  at  the 

prow; 
For  beside  the  dolly  sailor,  I'm   to  voyage  and 

explore, 
To  land  upon   the  island  where  no  dolly  was 

before, 
And  to  fire  the  penny  cannon  in  the  bow. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  81 


III. 
MY  KINGDOM. 

Down  by  a  shining  water  well 
I  found  a  very  little  dell, 

No  higher  than  my  head. 
The  heather  and  the  gorse  about 
In  summer  bloom  were  coming  out, 

Some  yellow  and  some  red. 

I  called  the  little  pool  a  sea; 

The  little  hills  were  big  to  me; 
For  1  am  very  small, 
made  a  boat,  I  made  a  town, 
searched  the  caverns  up  and  down, 
And  named  them  one  and  all. 

And  all  about  was  mine,  I  said, 
The  little  sparrows  overhead, 
The  little  minnows  too. 

6  Verses 


82          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

This  was  the  world  and  I  was  king ; 
For  me  the  bees  came  by  to  sing, 
For  me  the  swallows  flew. 

I  played  there  were  no  deeper  seas, 
Nor  any  wider  plains  than  these, 

Nor  other  kings  than  me. 
At  last  I  heard  my  mother  call 
Out  from  the  house  at  evenfall, 

To  call  me  home  to  tea. 

And  I  must  rise  and  leave  my  dell, 
And  leave  my  dimpled  water  well, 

And  leave  my  heather  blooms. 
Alas!  and  as  my  home  I  neared, 
How  very  big  my  nurse  appeared, 

How  great  and  cool  the  rooms! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  83 


IV. 
PICTURE-BOOKS  IN  WINTER. 

Summer  fading,  winter  comes — 
Frosty  mornings,  tingling  thumbs, 
Window  robins,  winter  rooks, 
And  the  picture  story-books. 

Water  now  is  turned  to  stone 
Nurse  and  I  can  walk  upon ; 
Still  we  find  the  flowing  brooks 
In  the  picture  story-books. 

All  the  pretty  things  put  by, 
Wait  upon  the  children's  eye, 
Sheep  and  shepherds,  trees  and  crooks, 
In  the  picture  story-books. 


84  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

We  may  see  how  all  things  are, 
Seas  and  cities,  near  and  far, 
And  the  flying  fairies'  looks, 
In  the  picture  story-books. 

How  am  I  to  sing  your  praise, 
Happy  chimney-corner  days, 
Sitting  safe  in  nursery  nooks, 
Reading  picture  story-books? 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  Ui-   VERSES.  85 


V. 
MY  TREASURES. 

These  nuts,  that  I  keep  in  the  back  of  the  nest 
Where  all  my  lead  soldiers  are  lying  at  rest, 
Were  gathered  in  autumn  by  nursie  and  me 
In  a  wood  with  a  well  by  the  side  of  the  sea. 

This  whistle  we  made  (and    how    clearly    it 

sounds  !) 

By  the  side  of  «.  field  at  the  end  of  the  grounds. 
Of  a  branch  of  a  plane,  with  a  knife  of  my 

own, 
It  was  nursie  who  made  it,  and  nursie  alone! 

The  stone,  with  the  white  and  the  yellow  and 


We  discovered  I  cannot  tell  how  far  away  ; 
And  I  carried  it  back  although  weary  and  cold, 
For  though  father  denies  it,  I'm  sure  it  is  gold. 


»i  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

But  of  all  my  treasures  the  last  is  the  king, 
For  there's  very  few  children  possess  such  a 

thing ; 

And  that  is  a  chisel,  both  handle  and  blade, 
Which  a  man  who  was  really  a  carpenter  made. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN. UE  VERSES. 


VI. 
BLOCK  CITY. 

What   are   you   able  to  build  with  your  blocks? 
Castles  and  palaces,  temples  and  docks. 
Rain  may  keep  raining,  and  others  go  roam, 
But  I  can  be  happy  and  building  at  home. 

Let  the  sofa  be  mountains,  the  carpet  be  sea, 
There  I'll  establish  a  city  for  me: 
A  kirk  and  a  mill  and  a  palace  beside, 
And  a  harbor  as  well  where  my  vessels  may 
ride. 

Great  is  the  palace  with  pillar  and  wall, 
A  sort  of  a  tower  on  the  top  of  it  all, 
And  steps  coining  down  in  an  orderly  way 
To  where  my  toy  vessels  lie  safe  in  the  bay. 


8»  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

This  one  is  sailing  and  that  one  is  moored: 
Hark  to  the  song  of  the  sailors  on  board! 
And  see  on  the  steps  of  my  palace,  the   kings 
Coming  and  going  with  presents  and  things 

Now  I  have  done  with  it,  down  let  it  go! 
All  in  a  moment  the  town  is  laid  low. 
Block  upon  block  lying  scattered  and  free, 
What  is  there  left  of  my  town  by  the  sea? 

Yet  as  I  saw  it,  I  see  it  again, 

The   kirk   and  the  palace,  the  ships  and  the 

men, 

And  as  long  as  I   live  and  where'er  I  may  be, 
I'll  always  remember  my  town  by  the  sea. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  89 


VII. 
THE  LAND  OF  STORY-BOOKS. 

At  evening  when  the  lamp  is  lit, 
Around  the  fire  my  parents  sit  ; 
They  sit  at  home  and  talk  and  sing, 
And  do  not  play  at  anything. 

Now,  with  my  little  gun,  I  crawl 
All  in  the  dark  along  the  wall, 
And  follow  round  the  forest  track 
Away  behind  the  sofa  back. 

There,  in  the  night,  where  none  can  spy, 
All  in  my  hunter's  camp  1  lie, 
And  play  at  books  that  I  have  read 
Till  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed. 

These  are  the  hills,  these  are  the  woods, 
These  are  my  starry  solitudes; 


90  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

And  there  the  river  by  whose  brink 
The  roaring  lions  come  to  drink. 

I  see  the  others  far  away, 
As  if  in  firelit  camp  they  lay, 
And  I,  like  to  an  Indian  scout, 
Around  their  party  prowled  about. 

So,  when  my  nurse  comes  in  for  me, 
Home  I  return  across  the  sea, 
And  go  to  bed  with  backward  looks 
At  my  dear  land  of  Story-books. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  91 


VIII. 
ARMIES  IN  THE  FIRE. 

The  lamps  now  glitter  down  the  street; 
Faintly  sound  the  falling  feet; 
And  the  blue  even  slowly  falls 
About  the  garden  trees  and  walls.  • 

Now  in  the  falling  of  the  gloom 
The  red  fire  paints  the  empty  room; 
And  warmly  on  the  roof  it  looks, 
And  flickers  on  the  backs  of  books. 

Armies  march  by  tower  and  spire 
Of  cities  blazing,  in  the  fire; — 
Till  as  I  gaze  with  staring  eyes, 
The  armies  fade,  the  luster  dies. 


92          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Then  once  again  the  glow  returns; 
Again  the  phantom  city  burns; 
And  down  the  red-hot  valley,  lo! 
The  phantom  armies  marching  go! 

Blinking  embers,  tell  me  true 
Where  are  those  armies  marching  to, 
And  what  the  burning  city  is 
That  crumbles  in  vour  furnaces! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  93 


IX. 
THE   LITTLE   LAND. 

When  at  home  alone  I  sit 
And  am  very  tired  of  it, 
I  have  just  to  shut  my  eyes 
To  go  sailing  through  the  skies- 
To  go  sailing  far  away 
To  the  pleasant  Land  of  Play; 
To  the  fairy-land  afar 
Where  the  Little  People  are; 
Where  the  clover-tops  are  trees, 
And  the  rain- pools  are  the  seas, 
And  the  leaves  like  little  ships 
Sail  about  on  tiny  trips; 
And  above  the  daisy  tree 

Through  the  grasses, 
High  o'erhead  the  Bumble  Bee 

Hums  and  passes. 


94          A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

In  that  forest  to  and  fro 

I  can  wander,  I  can  go ; 

See  the  spider  and  the  fly, 

And  the  ants  go  marching  by 

Carrying  parcels  with  their  feet 

Down  the  green  and  grassy  street. 

I  can  in  the  sorrel  sit 

Where  the  ladybird  alit. 

I  can  climb  the  jointed  grass 

And  on  high 
See  the  greater  swallows  pass 

In  the  sky, 

And  the  round  sun  rolling  by 
Heeding  no  such  things  as  I. 

Through  that  forest  I  can  pass 
Till,  as  in  a  looking-glass, 
Humming  fly  and  daisy  tree 
And  my  tiny  self  I  see, 
Painted  very  clear  and  neat 
On  the  rain-pool  at  my  feet. 
Should  a  leaflet  come  to  land 
Drifting  near  to  where  I  stand, 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  95 

Straight  I'll  board  that  tiny  boat 

Round  the  rain- pool  sea  to  float. 

Little  thoughtful  creatures  sit 

On  the  grassy  coasts  of  it ; 

Little  things  with  lovely  eyes 

See  me  sailing  with  surprise.  i 

Some  are  clad  in  armor  green — 

(These  have  sure  to  battle  been ') 

Some  are  pied  with  ev'ry  hue, 

Black  and  crimson,  gold  and  blue ; 

Some  have  wings  and  swift  are  gone; — 

But  they  all  look  kindly  on. 

When  my  eyes  I  once  again 
Open,  and  see  all  things  plain : 
High  bare  walls,  great  bare  floor; 
Great  big  knobs  on  drawer  and  door; 
Great  big  people  perched  on  chairs, 
Stitching  tucks  and  mending  tears, 
Each  a  hill  that  I  could  climb, 
And  talking  nonsense  all  the  time — 

O  dear  me, 

That  I  could  be 


96  A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

A  sailor  on  the  rain- pool  sea, 
A  climber  in  the  clover  tree, 
And  just  come  back,  a  sleepy-head, 
Late  at  night  to  go  to  bed. 


GARDEN  DAYS. 


7  Verses 


A  CHILD  S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.  99 


NIGHT  AND  DAY. 

When  the  golden  day  is  done, 
Through  the  closing  portal, 

Child  and  garden,  flower  and  sun, 
Vanish  all  things  mortal. 

As  the  blinding  shadows  fall 

As  the  rays  diminish, 
Under  evening's  cloak,  they  all 

Roll  away  and  vanish. 

Garden  darkened,  daisy  shut, 
Child  in  bed,  they  slumber — 

Glow-worm  in  the  highway  rut, 
Mice  among  the  lumber. 


100         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

In  the  darkness  houses  shine, 
Parents  move  with  candles ; 

Till  on  all,  the  night  divine 
Turns  the  bedroom  handles. 

Till  at  last  the  day  begins 

In  the  east  a-breaking, 
In  the  hedges  and  the  whins 

Sleeping  birds  a-waking. 

In  the  darkness  shapes  of  things, 
Houses,  trees  and  hedges, 

Clearer  grow:  and  sparrow's  wings 
Beat  on  window  ledges. 

These  shall  wake  the  yawning  maid; 

She  the  door  shall  open — 
Finding  dew  on  garden  glade 

And  the  morning  broken. 

There  my  garden  grows  again 

Green  and  rosy  painted, 
As  at  eve  behind  the  pane 

From  my  eyes  it  fainted. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.          101 

Just  as  it  was  shut  away, 

Toy-like  in  the  even, 
Here  I  see  it  glow  with  day 

Under  glowing  heaven. 

Every  path  and  every  plot, 

Every  bush  of  roses, 
Every  blue  forget-me-not 

Where  the  dew  reposes. 

"Up'"  they  cry,  "the  day  is  come 

On  the  smiling  valleys: 
We  have  beat  the  morning  drum ; 

Playmate,  join  your  allies!" 


102         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


II. 
NEST  EGGS. 

Birds  all  the  sunny  day 

Flutter  and  quarrel 
Here  in  the  arbor-like 

Tent  of  the  laurel. 

Here  in  the  fork 

The  brown  nest  is  seated; 
Four  little  blue  eggs 

The  mother  keeps  heated. 

While  we  stand  watching  her, 

Staring  like  gabies, 
Safe  in  each  egg  are  the 

Bird's  little  babies. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.          103 

Soon  the  frail  eggs  they  shall 

Chip,  and  upspringing 
Make  all  the  April  woods 

Merry  with  singing. 

Younger  than  we  are, 

O  children,  and  frailer, 
Soon  in  blue  air  they'll  be, 

Singer  and  sailor. 

We,  so  much  older, 

Taller  and  stronger, 
We  shall  look  down  on  the 

Birdies  no  longer. 

They  shall  go  flying 

With  musical  speeches 
High  overhead  in  the 

Tops  of  the  beeches. 

In  spite  of  our  wisdom 

And  sensible  talking, 
We  on  our  feet  must  go 

Plodding  and  walking. 


104         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


III. 
THE  FLOWERS. 

All  the  names  I  know  from  nurse: 
Gardener's  garters,  Shepherd's  purse, 
Bachelor's  buttons,  Lady's  smock, 
And  the  Lady  Hollyhock. 

Fairy  places,  fairy  things, 

Fairy  woods  where  the  wild  bee  wings, 

Tiny  trees  for  tiny  dames  — 

These  must  all  be  fairy  names! 

Tiny  woods  below  whose  boughs 
Shady  fairies  weave  a  house ; 
Tiny  tree-tops,  rose  or  thyme, 
Where  the  braver  fairies  climb! 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.          105 

Fair  are  grown-up  people's  trees, 
But  the  fairest  woods  are  these ; 
Where  if  I  were  not  so  tall, 
1  should  live  for  good  and  all. 


106         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


IV. 
SUMMER  SUN. 

Great  is  the  sun,  and  wide  he  goes 
Through  empty  heaven  without  repose; 
And  in  the  blue  and  glowing  days 
More  thick  than  rain  he  showers  his  rays. 

Though  closer  still  the  blinds  we  pull 
To  keep  the  shady  parlor  cool, 
Yet  he  will  find  a  chink  or  two 
To  slip  his  golden  fingers  through. 

The  dusty  attit  spider-clad 
He,  through  the  keyhole,  maketh  glad; 
And  through  the  broken  edge  of  tiles, 
Into  the  laddered  hay-loft  smiles. 


A' CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         107 

Meantime  his  golden  face  around 
He  bares  to  all  the  garden  ground, 
And  sheds  a  warm  and  glittering  look 
Among  the  ivy's  inmost  nook. 

Above  the  hills,  along  the  blue, 
Round  the  bright  air  with  footing  true, 
To  please  the  child,  to  paint  the  rose, 
The  gardener  of  the  World,  he  goes. 


108         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


V. 
THE  DUMB  SOLDIER. 

When  the  grass  was  closely  mown, 
Walking  on  the  lawn  alone, 
In  the  turf  a  hole  I  found 
And  hid  a  soldier  underground. 

Spring  and  daisies  came  apace; 
Grasses  hide  my  hiding  place; 
Grasses  run  like  a  green  sea 
O'er  the  lawn  up  to  my  knee. 

Under  grass  alone  he  lies, 
Looking  up  with  leaden  eyes, 
Scarlet  coat  and  pointed  gun, 
To  the  stars  and  to  the  sun. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         109 

When  the  grass  is  ripe  like  grain, 
When'the  scythe  is  stoned  again, 
When  the  lawn  is  shaven  clear, 
Then  my  hole  shall  reappear. 

I  shall  find  him,  never  fear, 
I  shall  find  my  grenadier; 
But  for  all  that's  gone  and  come, 
I  shall  find  my  soldier  dumb. 

He  has  lived,  a  little  thing, 
In  the  grassy  woods  of  spring ; 
Done,  if  he  could  tell  me  true, 
Just  as  I  should  like  to  do. , 

He  has  seen  the  starry  hours 
And  the  springing  of  the  flowers; 
And  the  fairy  things  that  pass 
In  the  forests  of  the  grass. 

In  the  silence  he  has  heard 
Talking  bee  and  ladybird, 
And  the  butterfly  has  flown 
O'er  him  as  he  lay  alone. 


110         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Not  a  word  will  he  disclose, 
Not  a  word  of  all  he  knows. 
I  must  la)7  him  on  the  shelf, 
And  make  up  the  tale  myself. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         Ill 


VI. 
AUTUMN  FIRES. 

In  the  other  gardens 

And  all  up  the  vale, 
From  the  autumn  bonfires 

See  the  smoke  trail ! 

Pleasant  summer  over 

And  all  the  summer  flowers, 
The  red  fire  blazes, 

The  gray  smoke  towers. 

Sing  a  song  of  seasons! 

Something  bright  in  all! 
Flowers  in  the  summer, 

Fires  in  the  fall! 


112         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


VII. 
THE  GARDENER. 

The  gardener  does  not  love  to  talk, 
He  makes  me  keep  the  gravel  walk ; 
And  when  he  puts  his  tools  away, 
He  locks  the  door  and  takes  the  key. 

Away  behind  the  currant  row 
Where  no  one  else  but  cook  may  go, 
Far  in  the  plots,  I  see  him  dig 
Old  and  serious,  brown  and  big. 

He  digs  the  flowers,  green,  red,  and  blue, 
Nor  wishes  to  be  spoken  to. 
He  digs  the  flowers  and  cuts  the  hay, 
And  never  seems  to  want  to  play. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         113 

Silly  gardener!  summer  goes, 
And  winter  comes  with  pinching  toes, 
When  in  the  garden  bare  and  brown 
You  must  lay  your  barrow  down. 

Well  now,  and  while  the  summer  stays, 
To  profit  by  these  garden  days 
O  how  much  wiser  you  would  be 
To  play  at  Indian  wars  with  me! 


8  Verses 


114         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


VIII. 
HISTORICAL  ASSOCIATIONS. 

Dear  Uncle  Jim,  this  garden  ground 
That  now  you  smoke  your  pipe  around, 
Has  seen  immortal  actions  done 
And  valiant  battles  lost  and  won. 

Here  we  had  best  on  tip-toe  tread, 
While  I  for  safety  march  ahead, 
For  this  is  that  enchanted  ground 
Where  all  who  loiter  slumber  sound. 

Here  is  the  sea,  here  is  the  sand, 
Here  is  simple  Shepherd's  Land, 
Here  are  the  fairy  hollyhocks, 
And  there  are  Ali  Baba's  rocks. 


"The  Swing." 

Child's  Garden  of  Verses. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN. OF  VERSES.         115 

But  yonder,  see !  apart  and  high, 
Frozen  Siberia  lies;  where  I, 
With  Robert  Bruce  and  William  Tell, 
Was  bound  by  an  enchanter's  spell. 


ENVOYS. 


Pairs  117  verses 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.          Ill) 


i  .        I. 

TO  WILLIE  AND  HENRIETTA. 

If  two  may  read  aright 
These  rhymes  of  old  delight 
And  house  and  garden  play, 
You  two,  my  cousins,  and  you  only,  may. 

You  in  a  garden  green 
With  me  were  king  and  queen, 
Were  hunter,  soldier,  tar, 
And  all  the  thousand  things  that  children  are. 

Now  in  the  elders'  seat 
We  rest  with  quiet  feet,  ' 
And  from  the  window- bay 
We  watch  the  children,  our  successors,  play. 


1UO         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

"Time  was,"  the  golden  head 
Irrevocably  said: 
But  time  which  none  can  bind, 
While  flowing  fast  away,  leaves  love  behind. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         121 


II. 
TO  MY  MOTHER. 

You  too,  my  mother,  read  my  rhymes 
For  love  of  unforgotten  times, 
And  you  may  chance  to  hear  once  more 
The  little  feet  along  the  floor. 


122         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES 


III. 
TO  AUNTIE. 

Chief  of  our  aunts — not  only  I, 

But  all  your  dozen  of  nurslings  cry — 

What  did  the  other  children  do? 

And  what  were  childhood,  wanting  you? 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         123 


IV. 
TO  MINNIE. 

The  red  room  with  the  giant  bed 

Where  none  but  elders  laid  their  head; 

The  little  room  where  you  and  I 

Did  for  awhile  together  lie         . 

And,  simple  suitor,  I  your  hand 

In  decent  marriage  did  demand, 

The  great  day  nursery,  best  of  all, 

With  pictures  pasted  on  the  wall 

And  leaves  upon  the  blind — 

A  pleasant  room  wherein  to  wake 

And  hear  the  leafy  garden  shake 

And  rustle  in  the  wind — 

And  pleasant  there  to  lie  in  bed 

And  see  the  pictures  overhead — 

The  wars  about  Sebastopol, 

The  grinning  guns  along  the  wall, 

The  daring  escalade, 


124         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

The  plunging  ships,  the  bleating  sheep, 

The  happy  children  ankle-deep 

And  laughing  as  they  wade: 

All  these  are  vanished  clean  away, 

And  the  old  manse  is  changed  to-day; 

It  wears  an  altered  face 

And  shields  a  stranger  race. 

The  river,  on  from  mill  to  mill, 

Flows  past  our  childhood's  garden  still; 

But  ah !  we  children  never  more 

\ 

Shall  watch  it  from  the  water-door! 
Below  the  yew — it  still  is  there — 
Our  phantom  voices  haunt  the  air 
As  we  were  still  at  play, 
And  I  can  hear  them  call  and  say: 
"How  far  is  it  to  Babylon?" 

Ah,  far  enough,  my  dear, 

Far,  far  enough  from  here — 

Yet  you  have  farther  gone! 

"Can  I  get  there  by  candle-light?" 

So  goes  the  old  refrain. 

I  do  not  know — perchance  you  might — 

But  only,  children,  hear  it  right, 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         125 

Ah,  never  to  return  again! 
The  eternal  dawn,  beyond  a  doubt, 
Shall  break  on  hill  and  plain, 
And  put  all  stars  and  candles  out 
Ere  we  be  young  again. 

To  you  in  distant  India,  these 

I  send  across  the  seas, 

Nor  count  it  far  across. 

For  which  of  us  forgets 

T&he  Indian  cabinets, 

The  bones  of  antelope,  the  wings  of  albatross, 

The  pied  and  painted  birds  and  beans, 

The  junks  and  bangles,  beads  and   screens, 

The  gods  and  sacred  bells, 

And  the  loud-humming,  twisted  shells! 

The  level  of  the  parlor  floor 

Was  honest,  homely,  Scottish  shore; 

But  when  we  climbed  upon  a  chair, 

Behold  the  gorgeous  East  was  there! 

Be  this  a  fable ;  and  behold 

Me  in  the  parlor  as  of  old, 

And  Minnie  just  above  me  set 

In  the  quaint  Indian  cabinet! 


126         A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Smiling  and  kind,  you  grace  a  shelf 
Too  high  for  me  to  reach  myself. 
Reach  down  a  hand,  my  dear,  and  take 
These  rhymes  for  old  acquaintance'  sake. 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         127 


V. 
TO  MY  NAME-CHILD. 


Some  day  soon  this  rhyming  volume,  if  you 
learn  with  proper  speed, 

Little  Louis  Sanchez,  will  be  given  you  to 
read. 

Then  shall  you  discover  that  your  name  was 
printed  down 

By  the  English  printers,  long  before,  in  Lon- 
don town. 

In  the  great  and  busy  city  where  the  East  and 

West  are  met, 

All  the  little  letters  did  the  English  printer  set ; 
While  you  thought  of  nothing,  and  were  still 

too  young  to  play, 
Foreign  people  thought  of  you  in  places  far 

away. 


1^8    A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 

Ay,  and  while  you  slept,  a.  baby,  over  all  the 

English  lands 
Other  little  children  took  the  volume  in  their 

hands; 
Other    children    questioned,    in    their    homes 

across  the  seas: 
Who    was    little    Louis,  won't    you    tell    us, 

mother,  please? 


n. 


Now  that  you  have  spelt  your  lesson,  lay  it 

down  and  go  and  play, 
Seeking  shells  and  seaweed  on  the   sands  of 

Monterey, 
Watching  all  the    mighty  whalebones,   lying 

buried  by  the  breeze, 
Tiny  sandy-pipers,  and  the  huge  Pacific  seas. 

And  remember  in  your  playing,  as  the  sea-fog 

rolls  to  you, 
Long  ere  you  could  read  it,  how  I  told  you 

what  to  do; 


A  CHILD'S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES.         129 

And  that 'while  you  thought  of   no  one,  nearly 

half  the  world  away 
Some  one  thought  of  Louis  on  the  beach  of' 

Monterey! 


9  Verses 


130         A  LHiLD  S  GARDEN  OF  VERSES. 


TO  ANY  READER. 

As  from  the  house  your  mother  sees 
You  playing  round  the  garden  trees, 
So  you  may  see,  if  you  will  look 
Through  the  windows  of  this  book 
Another  child,  far,  far  away, 
And  in  another  garden,  play. 
But  do  not  think  you  can  at  all, 
By  knocking  on  the  window,  call 
That  child  to  hear  you.      He  intent 
Is  all  on  his  play- business  bent. 
He  does  not  hear;  he  will  not  look, 
Nor  yet  be  lured  out  of  this  book. 
For,  long  ago,  the  truth  to  say, 
He  has  grown  up  and  gone  away, 
And  it  is  but  a  child  of  air 
That  lingers  in  the  garden  there. 


UNDERWOODS. 


126 


BOOK  I.— IN  ENGLISH. 

I. 

ENVOY. 

Go,  little  book,  and   wish  to  all 
Flowers  in  the  garden,  meat  in  the  hall, 
A  bin  of  wine,  a  spice  of  wit, 
A  house  with  lawns  enclosing  it, 
A  living-  river  by  the  door, 
A  nightingale  in  the  sycamore! 


127 


II. 

A  SONG  OF  THE  ROAD. 

THE  gauger  walked  with  willing  foot, 
And  aye  the  gauger  played  the  flute ; 
And  what  should  Master  Gauger  play 
But  Over  the  hills  and  far  aivay? 

Whene'er  I  buckle  on  my  pack 
And  foot  it  gayly  in  the  track, 

0  pleasant  ganger,  long  since  dead, 

1  hear  you  fluting  on  ahead. 

You  go  with  me  the  self-same  way — 
The  self-same  air  for  me  you  play; 
For  I  do  think  and  so  do  you 
It  is  the  tune  to  travel  to. 

For  who  would  gravely  set  his  face 
To  go  to  this  or  t'other  place? 
There's  nothing  under  heav'n  so  blue 
That's  fairly  worth  the  traveling  to. 
128 


A  SONG  OF  THE  ROAD.  129 

On  every  hand  the  roads  begin, 
And  people  walk  with  zeal  therein ; 
But  wheresoc'er  the  highways  tend, 
Be  sure  there's  nothing  at  the  end. 

Then  follow  you,  wherever  hie 

c 

The  travelling  mountains  of  the  sky. 
Or  let  the  streams  in  civil  mode 
Direct  your  choice  upon  a  road; 

For  one  and  all,  or  high  or  low, 
Will  lead  you  where  you  wish  to  go; 
And  one  and  all  go  night  and  day 
Orer  the  hills  and  far  away! 
Forest  of  Montargis,  1878. 


III. 

THE  CANOE  SPEAKS. 

ON  the  great  streams  the  ships  may  go 
About  men's  business  to  and  fro. 
But  I,  the  egg-shell  pinnace,  sleep 
On  crystal   waters  ankle-deep : 
I,  whose  diminutive  design, 
Of  sweeter  cedar,  pithier  pine, 
Is  fashioned  on  so  frail  a  mould, 
A  hand  may  launch,  a  hand  withhold : 
1,  rather,  with  the  leaping  trout 
Wind,  among  lilies,  in  and  out; 
I,  the  unnamed,  inviolate, 
Green,  rustic  rivers  navigate; 
My  dipping  paddle  scarcely  shakes 
The  berry  in  the  bramble-brakes; 
Still  forth  on  my  green  way  I  wend 
Beside  the  cottage  garden-end; 
And  by  the  nested  angler  fare, 
And  take  the  lovers  unaware. 
130 


THE  CANOE  SPEAKS.  131 

By  willow  wood  and  water-wheel 
Speedily  fleets  my  touching  keel ; 
By  all  retired  and  shady  spots 
Where   prosper   dim    forget-me-nots; 
By  meadows  where  at  afternoon 
The  growing  maidens  troop  in  June 
To  loose  their  girdles  on  the  grass. 
Ah !  speedier  than  before  the  glass 
The  backward  toilet  goes;  and  swift 
As  swallows  quiver,  robe,  and  shift 
And  the  rough  country  stockings  lie 
Around  each  young  divinity. 
When,  following  the  recondite  brook, 
Sudden  upon  this  scene  I  look, 
And  light  with  unfamiliar  face 
On  chaste  Diana's  bathing  place, 
Loud  ring  the  hills  about  and  all 
The  shallows  are  abandoned.     .     ,    . 


IV. 

IT  IS  THE  SEASON  NOW  TO  GO. 

IT  is  the  season  now  to  go 
About  the  country  high  and  low, 
Among  the  lilacs  hand  in  hand, 
And  two  by  two  in  fairy  land. 

The  brooding  boy,  the  sighing  maid, 
Wholly  fain  and  half  afraid, 
Now  meet  along  the  hazel'd  brook 
To  pass  and  linger,  pause  and  look. 

A  year  ago,  and  blithely  paired, 
Their  rough-and-tumble  play  they  shared ; 
They  kissed  and  quarreled,  laughed  and  cried, 
A  year  ago  at  Eastertide. 

With  bursting  heart,   with  fiery  face, 
She  strove  against  him  in  the  race; 
He,  unabashed,  her  garter  saw, 
That  now  would  touch  her  skirt  with  awe. 
132 


IT  IS  THE  SEASON  NOW  TO  GO.        133 

Now  by  the  stile  ablaze  she  stops, 
And  his  demurer  eyes  he  drops; 
Now  they  exchange  averted  sighs 
Or  stand  and  marry  silent  eyes. 

And  he  to  her  a  hero  is, 
And  sweeter  she  than  primroses; 
Their  common  silence  dearer  far 
Than  nightingale  and  mavis  are. 

Now  when  they  sever  wedded  hands, 
Joy  trembles  in  their  bosom-strands, 
And  lovely  laughter  leaps  and  falls 
Upon  their  lips  in  madrigals. 


V. 
THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL. 

A  naked  house,  a  naked  moor, 
A  shivering  pool  before  the  door, 
A  garden  bare  of  flowers  and  fruit, 
And  poplars  at  the  garden  foot: 
Such  is  the  place  that  I  live  in, 
Bleak  without  and  bare  ivithin. 

Yet  shall  your  ragged  moor  receive 
The  incomparable  pomp  of  eve, 
And  the  cold  glories  of  the  dawn 
Behind  your  shivering  trees  be  drawn; 
And  when  the  wind  from  place  to  place 
Doth  the  unmoored  cloud-galleons  chase, 
Your  garden  gloom  and  gleam  again, 
With  leaping  sun,  with  glancing  rain. 
Here  shall  the  wizard  moon  ascend 
The  heavens,  in  the  crimson  end 
Of  day's  declining  splendour ;  here 


THE  HOUSE   BEAUTIFUL.  I3S 

i 
The  army  of  the  stars  appear. 

The  neighbour  hollows  dry  or  wet, 
Spring  shall  with  tender  flowers  beset; 
And  oft  the  morning  muser  see 
Larks  rising  from  the  broomy  lea, 
And  every  fairy  wheel  and  thread 
Of  cobweb  dew-bediamoned. 
When  daisies  go,  shall  winter  time 
Silver   and    simple   grass    with    rime ; 
Autumnal  frosts  enchant  the  pool 
And  make  the  cart-ruts  beautiful ; 
And  when  snow-bright  the  moor  expands 
How  shall  your  children  clap  their  hands 
To  make  this  earth  our  hermitage, 
A  cheerful  and  a  changeful  page, 
God's  bright  and  intricate  device 
Of  days  and  seasons  doth  suffice. 


VI. 

A  VISIT  FROM  THE  SEA. 

FAR  from  the  loud  sea  beaches 

Where  he  goes  fishing  and  crying, 

Here  in  the  inland  garden 
Why    is    the   sea-gull    flying? 

Here  are  fish  to  dive  for, 

Here  is  the  corn  and  lea; 
Here  are  the  green  trees  rustling. 

Hie  away  home  to  sea ! 

Fresh  is  the  river  water 
And  quiet  among  the  rushes ; 

This  is  no  home  for  the  sea-gull 
But  for  the  rooks  and  thru'shes. 

Pity  the  bird  that  has  wandered! 
Pity  the  sailor  ashore! 
136 


A  VISIT  FROM  THE  SEA.  13? 

Hurry  him  home  to  the  ocean. 

Let  him  come  here  no  more. 

\ 

High  on  the  sea-cliff  ledges 

The  white  gulls  are  trooping  and  crying, 
Here  among  rooks  and  roses, 

Why  is  the  sea-gull  flying? 


vn. 

TO  A  GARDENER. 

FRIEND,  in  my  mountain-side  demesne, 
My  plain-beholding,   rosy,   green 
And  linnet-haunted  garden-ground, 
Let  still  the  esculents  abound. 
Let  first  the  onion  flourish  there, 
Rose  among  roots,  the  maiden-fair, 
Wine-scented  and  poetic  soul 
Of  the  capacious  salad  bowl. 
Let  thyme  the  mountaineer  (to  dress 
The  tinier  birds)  and  wading  cress, 
The  lover  of  the  shallow  brook. 
From  all  my  plots  and  borders  look. 
Nor  crisp  and  ruddy  radish,  nor 
Peace-cods  for  the  child's  pinafore 
Be  lacking;  nor  of  salad  clan 
The  last  and  least  that  ever  ran 
About  great  nature's  garden-beds. 
Nor  thence  be  missed  the  speary  heads 
138 


TO  A  GARDENER.  139 

Of  artichoke ;  nor  thence  the  bean 
That,  gathered  innocent  and  green, 
Outsavours  the  belauded  pea. 

These  tend,  I  prithee ;  and  for  me, 
Thy  most  long-suffering  master,  bring 
In  April,  when  the  linnets  sing 
And  the  days  lengthen  more  and  more 
At  sundown  to  the  garden  door. 
And  I,  being  provided  thus, 
Shall,  with  superb  asparagus, 
A  book,  a  taper,  and  a  cup 
Of  country  wine,  divinely  sup. 

La  Solitude,  Hyeres. 


VIII. 

TO  MINNIE. 
(With  a  Hand-Glass  ) 

A   PICTURE-FRAME    for   YOU   tO   fill, 

A  paltry  setting  for  your  face, 
A  thing  that  has  no  worth  until 

You  lend  it  something  of  your  grace, 

I  send  (unhappy  I  that  sing 
Laid  by  a  while  upon  the  shelf) 

Because  I  would  not  send  a  thing 
Less  charming  than  you  are  yourself. 

And  happier  than  I,  alas! 

(Dumb  thing,  I  envy  its  delight), 
'Twill  wish  you  well,  the  looking-glass, 

And  look  you  in  the  face  tonight. 
18*9. 


140 


IX. 
TO  K.  DE  M. 

A  LOVER  of  the  moorland  bare 

And  honest  country  winds,  you  were; 

The  silver-skimming  rain  you  took  ; 

And  loved  the  floodings  of  the  brook, 

Dew,  frost,  and  mountains,  fire  and  seas, 

Tumultuary  silences. 

Winds  that  in  darkness  fifed  a  tune, 

And  the  high-riding,  virgin  moon. 

And  as  the  berry,  pale  and  sharp, 
Springs  on  some  ditch's  counterscarp 
In  our  ungenial,  native  north — 
You  put  your  frosted  wildings  forth, 
And  on  the  heath,  afar  from  man, 
A  strong  and  bitter  virgin  ran. 

The  berry  ripened  keeps  the  rude 
And  racy  flavour  of  the  wood; 
141 


TO  K.  DE  M. 

And  you, that  loved  the  empty  plain 
All   redolent  of  wind   and   rain, 
Around  you  still  the  curlew  sings — 
The  freshness  of  the  weather  clings- 
The  maiden  jewels  of  the  rain 
Sit  in  your  dabbled  locks  again. 


X. 

TO  N.  V.  DE  G.  S. 

THE  unfathomable  sea,  and  time,  and  tears, 
The  deeds  of  heroes  and  the  crimes  of  kings 
Dispart  us ;  and  the  river  of  events 
Has,  for  an  age  of  years,  to  east  and  west 
More  widely  borne  our  cradles.     Thou  to  me 
Art  foreign,  as  when  seamen  at  the  dawn 
Descry  a  land  far  off  and  know  not  which. 
So  T  approach  uncertain ;  so  I  cruise 
Round  thy  mysterious  islet,  and  behold 
Surf  and  great  mountains  and  loud  river  bars, 
And  from  the  shore  hear  inland  voices  call. 
Strange  is  the  seaman's  heart ;  he  hopes,  he  fears  ; 
Draws  closer  and  sweeps  wider  from  that  coast ; 
Last,  his  rent  sail  refits,  and  to  the  deep 
His  shattered  prow  uncomforted  puts  back. 
Yet  as  he  goes  he  ponders  at  the  helm 
Of  that  bright  island ;  where  he  feared  to  touch, 
His  spirit  re-adventures ;  and  for  years 
M3 


144  TO  N.  V.  DE  G.  S. 

Where  by  his  wife  he  slumbers  safe  at  home, 
Thoughts  of  that  land  revisit  him ;  he  sees 
The  eternal  mountains  beckon,  and  awakes 
Yearning  for  that  far  home  that  might  have  been. 


XI. 
TO  WILL  H.  LOW. 

YOUTH  now  flees  on  feathered  foot 
Faint  and  fainter  sounds  the  flute, 
Rarer  songs  of  gods ;  and  still 
Somewhere  on  the  sunny  hill, 
Or  along  the  winding  stream, 
Through  the  willows,  flits  a  dream ; 
Flits,  but  shows  a  smiling  face, 
Flees,  but  with  so  quaint  a  grace, 
None  can  choose  to  stay  at  home, 
All  must   follow,  all  must  roam. 
This  is  unborn  beauty :  she 
Now  in  air  floats  high  and  free, 
Takes  the  sun  and  breaks  the  blue;- 
Late  with  stooping  pinion  flew 
Raking  hedgerow  trees,  and  wet 
Her  wing  in  silver  streams,  and  set 
Shining  foot  on  temple  roof; 
Now  again  she  flies  aloof, 
H5 


TO  WILL  H.  LOU'. 

Coasting  mountain  clouds  and  kiss't 
By  the  evening's  amethyst. 

In  wet  wood  and  miry  lane, 

Still  we  pant  and  pound  in  vain ; 

Still  with  leaden  foot  we  chase 

Waning  pinion,  fainting  face; 

Still   with    gray   hair   we   stumble   on, 

Till,  behold,  the  vision  gone! 

Where  hath  fleeting  beauty  led  ? 

To  the  doorway  of  the  dead. 

Life   is  over,   life   was  gay: 

We  have  come  the  primrose  way. 


XII. 
TO  MRS.  WILL.  H.  LOW. 

EVEN  in  the  bluest  noonday  of  July, 

There  could  not  run  the  smallest  breath  of  wind 

But  all  the  quarter  sounded  like  a  wood ; 

And  in  the  checkered  silence  and  above 

The  hum  of  city  cabs  that  sought  the  Bois, 

Suburban  ashes  shivered  into  song. 

A  patter  and  a  chatter  and  a  chirp 

And  a  long-dying  hiss — it  was  as  though 

Starched   old   Brocaded,  dames   through   all  the 

house 

Had  trailed  a  strident  skirt,  or  the  whole  sky 
Even  in  a  wink  had  over-brimmed  in  rain. 
Hark,  in  these  shady  parlours,  how  it  talks 
Of  the  near  autumn,  how  the  smitten  ash 
Trembles  and  augurs  floods !    O  not  too  long 
In  these  inconstant  latitudes  delay, 
O  not  too  late  from  the  unbeloved  north 
i47 


14«  TO  MRS.  WILL  H.  LOW. 

Trim  you  escape !  For  soon  shall  this  low  roof 
Resound  indeed  with  rain ;  soon  shall  your  eyes 
Search    the    foul    garden,    search    the    darkened 

rooms, 

Kor  find  gne  jewel  but  the  blazing  log. 
12  Rue  Vernier,  Paris. 


XIII. 
TO  H.  F.  BROWN. 

(Written  During  a  Dangerous  Sickness.) 

I  SIT  and  wait  a  pair  of  oars 
On  cis-Elysian  river-shores. 
Where  the  immortal  dead  have  sate, 
Tis  mine  to  sit  and  meditate ; 
To  re-ascend  life's  rivulet, 
Without  remorse,  without  regret; 
And  sing  my  Alma  Genetrix 
Among  the  willows  of  the  Styx. 

And  lo,  as  my  serener  soul 
Did  these  unhappy  shores  patrol, 
And  wait  with  an  attentive  ear 
The  coming  of  the  gondolier, 
Your  fire-surviving  roll  I  took, 
Your  spirited  and  happy  book  ;* 

*  "Life  on  the  Lagoons,"  by  H.  F.   Brown,  originally 
burned  in  the  fire  at  Messrs.  Kegan  Paul,  Trench  &  Go's. 
149 


150  TO  H.  F.  BROWN. 

Whereon,  despite  my  frowning  fate, 
It  did  my  soul  so  recreate 
That  all  my  fancies  fled  away 
On  a  Venetian  holiday. 

Now,  thanks  to  your  triumphant  care, 

Your  pages  clear  as  April  air, 

The  sails,  the  bells,  the  birds,  I  know, 

And.  the  far-off  Friulan  snow; 

The  land  and  sea,  the  sun  and  shade, 

And  the  blue  even,  lamp-inlaid, 

For  this,  for  these,  for  all,  O  friend, 

For  your  whole  book  from  end  to  end — 

For  Paron  Piero's  muttonham — 

I  your  defaulting  debtor  am. 

Perchance,  reviving,  yet  may  I 
To  your  sea-paven  city  hie. 
And  in  a  fclse,  some  day,  yet 
Light  at  your  pipe  my  cigarette. 


XIV. 

TO  ANDREW  LANG. 
i 

DEAR  Andrew,  with  the  Brindled  hair, 
Who  glory  to  have  thrown  in  air, 
High  over  arm,  the  trembling  reed, 
By  Ale  and  Kail,  by  Till  and  Tweed; 
An  equal  craft  of  hand  you  show 
The  pen  to  guide,  the  fly  to  throw : 
I  count  you  happy  starred ;  for  God 
When  He  with  inkpot  and  with  rod 
Endowed  you,  bade  your  fortune  lead 
Forever  by  the  crooks  of  Tweed, 
Forever  by  the  woods  of  song 
And  lands  that  to  the' Muse  belong; 
Or,  if  in  peopled  streets,  or  in 
The  abhorred  pedantic  sanhedrim, 
It  should  be  yours  to  wander,  still 
Airs  of  the  morn,  airs  of  the  hill, 
The  plovery  Forest  and  the  seas 
That  break  about  the  Hebrides, 


152  TO  ANDREW  LANG. 

Should  follow  over  field  and  plain 

And  find  you  at  the  window-pane; 

And  you  again  see  hill  and  peel, 

And  the  bright  springs  gush  at  your  heel. 

So  went  the  fiat  forth,  and  so 

Garrulous  like  a  brook  you  go, 

With  sound  of  happy  mirth  and  sheen 

Of  daylight — whether  by  the  green 

You  fare  that  moment,  or  the  gray; 

Whether  you  dwell  in  March  or  May ; 

Or  whether  treat  of  reels  and  rods 

Or  of  the  old  unhappy  gods : 

Still  like  a  brook  your  page  has  shone, 

And  your  ink  sings  of  Helicon. 


XV. 

ET  TU  IN   ARCADIA  VIXISTI. 

(TO  R.  A.  M.  S.) 

IN  ancient  tales,  O  friend,  thy  spirit  dwelt ; 
There,  from  of  old,  thy  childhood  passed ;  and 

there 

High  expectation,  high  delights  and  deeds, 
Thy  fluttering  heart  with  hope  and  terror  moved. 
And  thou  hast  heard  of  yore  the  Blatant  Beast, 
And  Roland's  horn,  and  that  war-scattering  shout 
Of  all-unarmed  Achilles,  aegis-crowned. 
And  perilous  lands  thou  sawest,  sounding  shores 
And  seas  and  forests  drear,  island  and  dale 
And   mountain   dark.     For  thou   with  Tristram 

rod'st 

Or  Bedevere,  in  farthest  Lyonesse. 
Thou  hadst  a  booth  in  Samarcand,  whereat 
Side-looking  Magians  trafficked  ;  thence,  by  night, 
An  Afreet  snatched  thee,  and  with  wings  upbore 
Beyond  the  Aral  mount ;  or  hoping  gain, 
153 


154  ET  TL'  L\  ARCADIA   1'IXISTL 

Thou,  with  a  jar  of  money  didst  embark 
For  Balsorah,  by  sea.     But  chiefly  thou 
In  that  clear  air  took'st  life ;  in  Arcady 
The  haunted,  land  of  song;  and  by  the  wells 
Where  most  the  gods  frequent.     There  Chiron 

old,     . 

In  the  Pelethronian  antre,  taught  thee  lore : 
The  plants,  he  taught,  and  by  the  shining  stars 
In  forests  dim  to -steer.     There  hast  thou  seen 
Immortal  Pan  dance  secret  in  a  glade, 
And,  dancing,  roll  his  eyes ;  these,  where  they 

fell, 

Shed  glee,  and  through  the  congregated  oaks 
A  flying  horror  winged  ;  while  all  the  earth 
To  the  god's  pregnant  footing  thrilled  within. 
Or  whiles,  beside  the  sobbing  stream,  he  breathed 
In  his  clutched  pipe  unformed  and  wizard  strains, 
Divine  yet  brutal ;  which  the  forest  heard, 
And  thou,  with  awe ;  and  far  upon  the  plain 
The  unthinking  ploughman  started  and  gave  ear. 
Now  things  there  are  that,  upon  him  who  sees, 
A  strong  vocation  lay ;  and  strains  there  are 
That  whoso  hears  shall  hear  for  evermore. 
For  evermore  thou  hear'st  a  mortal  Pan 


ET  TC  /.V  ARCADIA  I'lXlSTI.  155 

And  those  melodious  godheads,  ever  young 
And  ever  choiring  on  the  mountains  old. 

What  was  this  earth,  child  of  the  gods,  to  thee? 
Forth    from    thy    dreamland    thou,    a    dreamer, 

cam'st, 

And  in  thine  ears  the  olden  music  rang, 
And  in  thy  mind  the  doings  of  the  dead, 
And  those  heroic  ages  long  forgot. 
To  a  so  fallen  earth,  alas !  too  late, 
Alas !  in  evil  days,  thy  steps  return, 
To  list  at  noon  for  nightingales,  to  grow 
A  dweller  on  the  beach  till  Argo  come, 
That  came  long  since ;  a  lingerer  by  the  pool 
Where  that  desired  angel  bathes  no  more. 
As  when  the  Indian  to  Dakota  comes, 
Or  farthest  Idaho,  and  where  he  dwelt, 
He,  with  his  clan,  a  humming  city  finds ; 
Thereon  awhile,  amazed,  he  stares,  and' then 
To  right  and  leftward,  like  a  questing  dog, 
Seeks  first  the  ancestral  altars,  then  the  hearth 
Long   cold    with    rains,    and    where   old   terror 

lodged, 
And  where  the  dead.     So  thee  undying  Hope, 


i5<>  HT  TU  l.\  ARCADIA  I'lXISTI. 

With  "all  her  pack,  hunts  screaming  through  the 

years : 

Here,  there,  thou  fleest ;  but  nor  here  nor  there 
The  pleasant  gods  abide,  the  glory  dwells. 

That,  that  was  not  Apollo,  not  the  god. 

This  was  not  Venus,  though  she  Venus  seemed 

A  moment.     And  though  fair  yon  river  move. 

She,  all  the  way  from  disenchanted  fount 

To  seas  unhallowed  runs ;  the  gods  forsook 

Lng  since  her  trembling  rushes ;  from  her  plans 

Disconsolate,  long  since  adventure  fled ; 

And  now  although  the  inviting  river  flows 

And  every  poplared  cape  and  every  bend 

Or  willowy  islet,  win  upon  thy  soul 

And  yet  to  thy  hopeful  shallop  whisper  speed ; 

Yet  hope  not  thou  at  all ;  hope  is  no  more ; 

And  O,  long  since  the  golden  groves  are  dead 

The  faery  cities  vanished  from  the  land ! 


XVI. 
TO  W.  E.  HENLEY. 

THE  year  runs  through  her  phases  ;  rain  and  sun, 
Springtime  and  summer  pass;  winter  succeeds; 
But  one  pale  season  rules  the  house  of  death. 
Cold  falls  the  imprisoned  daylight ;  fell  disease 
By  each  lean  pallet  squats,  and  pain  and  sleep 
Toss  gaping  on  the  pillows. 

But  O  thou ! 

Uprise  and  take  thy  pipe.     Bid  music  flow. 
Strains    by    good    thoughts    attended,    like    the 

spring 

The  swallows  follow  'over  land  and  sea. 
Pain  sleeps  at  once ;  at  once,  with  open  eyes, 
Dozing  despair  awakes.     The  shepherd  sees 
His  flock  come  bleating  home ;  the  seaman  hears 
Once  more  the  cordage  rattle.     Airs  of  home ! 
Youth,  love,  and  roses  blossom ;  the  gaunt  ward 
J57 


IS8  TO  W.  E.  HENLEY. 

Dislimns  and  disappears,  and,  opening  out, 
Shows  brooks  and  forests,  and  the  blue  beyond 
Of  mountains. 

Small  the  pipe ;  but  oh !  do  thou, 
Peak-faced  and  suffering  piper,  blow  therein 
The  dirje  of  heroes  dead;  and  to  these  sick, 
These  dying,  sound  the  triumph  over  death. 
Behold !  each  greatly  breathes ;  each  tastes  a  joy 
Unknown  before,  in  dying;  for  each  knows 
A  hero  dies  with  him — though  unfulfilled, 
Yet  conquering  truly — and  not  dies  in  vain. 

So  is  pain  cheered,  death  comforted;  the  house 
Of  sorrow  smiles  to  listen.     Once  again — 
O  thou,  Orpheus  and  Heracles,  the  bard 
And  the  deliverer,  touch  the  stops  again! 


XVII. 
HENRY  JAMES. 

WHO  comes  to-night  ?    We  ope  the  doors  in  vain, 
Who  comes?     My  bursting'  walls,  can  you  con- 
tain 

The  presences  that  now  together  throng 
Your  narrow  entry,  as  with  flowers  and  song, 
As  with  the  air  of  life,  the  breath  of  talk  ? 
Lo,  how  these  fair  immaculate  women  walk 
Behind  their  jocund  maker ;  and  we  see 
Slighted  DC  Maui'cs,  and  that  far  different  she, 
Grcssic,  the  trivial  sphynx ;  and  to  our  feast, 
Daisy  and  Barb  and  Chancellor  (she  not  least!) 
With  all  their  silken,  all  their  airy  kin, 
Do  like  unbidden  angels  enter  in. 
But  he,  attended  by  these  shining  names. 
Comes  (best  of  all)  himself — our  welcome  James. 


159 


XVIII. 
THE  MIRROR  SPEAKS. 

WHERE  th  bells  peal  far  at  sea 

Cunning  fingers  fashioned  me. 

There  on  palace  walls  I  hung 

While  that  Consuelo  sung; 

But  I  heard,  though  I  listened  well, 

Never  a  note,  never  a  trill, 

Never  a  beat  of  the  chiming  bell. 

There  I  hung  and  looked,  and  there 

In  my  gray  face,  faces  fair 

Shone  from  under  shining  hair. 

Well  T  saw  the  poising  head. 

But  the  lips  moved  and  nothing  said; 

And  when  lights  were  in  the  hall, 

Silent  moved  the  dancers  all. 

So  a  while  I  glo\ved,  and  then 
Fell  on  dusty  days  and  men ; 
Long  I  slumbered  packed  in  straw, 
160 


THE   MIRROR   SPEAKS.  161 

Long  I  none  but  dealers  saw ; 

Till  before  my  silent  eye 

One  that  sees  came  passing  by. 

Now  with  an  outlandish  grace, 
To  the  sparkling  fire  I  face 
In  the  blue  room  at  Skerryvore ; 
Where  I  wait  until  the  door 
Open,  and  the  Prince  of  Men, 
Henry  James,  shall  come  again. 


XIX. 
KATHARINE. 

WE  see  you  as  we  see  a  face 
That  trembles  in  a  forest  place 
Upon  the  mirror  of  a  pool 
Forever  quiet,  clear,  and  cool ; 
And  in  the  wayward  glass  appears 
To  hover  between  smiles  and  tears, 
Elfin  and  human,  airy  and  true. 
And  backed  bv  the  reflected  blue. 


162 


XX. 

TO  F.  J.  S. 

I  READ,  dear  friend,  in  your  dear  face 
Your  life's  tale  told  with  perfect  grace ; 
The  river  of  your  life  I  trace 
Up  the  sun-checkered,  devious  bed 
To  the  far-distant  fountain-head. 

Not  one  quick  beat  of  your  warm  heart, 
Nor  thought  that  came  to  you  apart, 
Pleasure  nor  pity,  love  nor  pain 
Nor  sorrow,  has  gone  by  in  vain ; 
But  as  some  lone,  wood-wandering  child 
Brings  home  with  him  at  evening  mild 
The  thorns  and  flowers  of  all  the  wild, 
From  your  whole  life,  O  fair  and  true 
Your  flowers  and  thorns  you  bring  with  you ! 


163 


XXI. 

REQUIEM. 

UNDER  the  wide  and  starry  sky, 
Dig  the  grave  and  let  me  lie. 
Glad  did  I  live  and  gladly  die, 
And  I  laid  me  down  with  a  will. 

This  be  the  verse  you  grave  for  me : 
Here  he  lies  where  he  longed  to  be; 
Home  is  the  sailor,  home  from  sea, 
And  the  hunter  home  from  the  hill. 


164 


XXII. 
THE  CELESTIAL  SURGEON. 

IF  I  have  faltered  more  or  less 
In  my  great  task  of  happiness ; 
If  I  have  moved  among  my  race 
And  shown  no  glorious  morning  face ; 
If  beams  from  happy  human  eyes 
Have  moved  me  not <  if  morning  skies, 
Books,  and  my  food,  and  summer  rain 
Knocked  on  my  sullen  heart  in  vain : — 
Lord,  thy  most  pointed  pleasure  take 
And  stab  my  spirit  broad  awake ; 
Or,  Lo^d,  if  too  obdurate  I, 
Choose  thou,  before  that  spirit  die, 
A  piercing  pain,  a  killing  sin, 
And  to  my  dead  heart  run  them  in ! 


165 


XXIII. 
OUR  LADY  OF  THE  SNOWS. 

OUT  of  the  sun,  out  of  the  blast, 
Out  of  the  world,  alone  I  passed 
Across  the  moor  and  through  the  wood 
To  where  the  monastery  stood-. 
There  neither  lute  nor  breathing  fife, 
Nor  rumour  of  the  world  of  life, 
Nor  confidences  low  and  dear, 
Shall  strike  the  meditative  ear. 
Aloof,  unhelpful,  and  unkind, 
The  prisoners  of  the  iron  mind. 
Where  nothing  speaks  except  the  hell, 
The  un fraternal  brothers  dwell. 

Poor,  passionate  men,  still  clothed  afresh 
With  agonizing -folds  of  flesh; 
Whom  the  clear  eyes  solicit  still 
To  some  bold  output  of  the  will, 
While  fairy  Fancy  far  before 
1 66 


OUR  LADY  OF  THE  SNOWS.  167 

And  musing  Memory-Hold-the-door 
Now  to  heroic  death  invite 
And  now  uncertain  fresh  delight : 
O,  little  boots  it  thus  to  dwell 
On  the  remote  unneighboured  hill ! 

O,  to  be  up  and  doing,  O 
Unfearing  and    unshamed  to  go 
In  all  the  uproar  and  the  press 
About  my  human  business ! 
My  undissuaded  heart  I  hear 
Whisper  courage  in  my  ear. 
With  voiceless  calls,  the  ancient  earth 
Summons  me  to  a  daily  birth. 
Thou,  O  my  love,  ye,  O  my  friends — 
The  gist  of  life,  the  end  of  ends — 
To  laugh,  to  love,  to  live,  to  die, 
Ye  call  me  by  the  ear  and  eye ! 

Forth  from  the  casemate,  on  the  plain 
Where  honour  has  the  world  to  gain, 
Pour  forth  and  bravely  do  your  part, 
O  knights  of  the  unshielded  heart ! 
Forth  and  forever  forward ! — out 


168  OUR  LADY  OF  THE  SNOWS. 

From  prudent  turret  and  redoubt, 
And  in  the  mellay  charge  amain, 
To  fall,  but  yet  to  rise  again ! 
Captive?  ah,  still,  to  honour  bright, 
A  captive  soldier  of  the  right ! 
Or  free  and  fighting,  good  with  ill  ? 
Unconquering  but  unconquered  still ! 

And  ye,  O  brethren,  what  if  God. 
When  from  heav'n's  top  He  spies  abroad, 
And  sees  on  this  tormented  stage 
The  noble  war  of  mankind  rage : 
What  if  His  vivifying  eye, 
O  monks,  should  pass  your  corner  by? 
For  still  the  Lord  is  Lord  of  might ; 
In  deeds,  in  deeds.  He  takes  delight ; 
The  plow,  the  spear,  the  laden  barks, 
The  field,  the  founded  city,  marks ; 
He  marks  the  smiler  of  the  streets, 
The  singer  upon  garden  seats ; 
He  sees  the  climber  in  the  rocks : 
To  Him  the  shepherd  folds  his  flocks. 
For  those  He  loves  that  underprop 
With  daily  virtues  heaven's  top. 


169 


And  bear  the  falling  sky  with  ease, 
Unfrowning  caryatides. 

Those  he  approves  that  ply  the  trade, 
That  rock  the  child,  that  wed  the  maid, 
That  with  weak  virtues,  weaker  hands, 
Sow  gladness  on  the  peopled  lands, 
And  still  with  laughter,  song  and  shout, 
Spin  the  great  wheel  of  earth  about. 

But  ye — O  ye  who  linger  still, 
Here  in  your  fortress  on  the  hill. 
With  placid  face,  with  tranquil  breath, 
The  unsought  volunteers  of  death. 
Our  cheerful  General  on  high 
With  careless  looks  may  pass  you  by. 


XXIV. 

NOT  yet,  my  soul,  these  friendly  fields  desert. 
Where  thou  with  grass, and  rivers,  and  the  breeze, 
And  the  bright  face  of  day,  thy  dalliance  liadst ; 
Where  to   thine  ear   first   sang  the   enraptured 

birds ; 

Where  love  and  thou  that  lasting  bargain  made. 
The  ship  rides  trimmed,  and   from  the  eternal 

shore 

Thou  hearest  airy  voices ;  but  not  yet 
Depart,  my  soul,  not  yet  a  while  depart. 
Freedom  is  far,  rest  far.    Thou  art  with  life 
Too  closely  woven,  nerve  with  nerve  entwined; 
Service  still  craving  service,  love  for  love, 
Love  for  dear  love,  still  suppliant  with  tears. 
Alas,  not  yet  thy  human  task  is  done ! 
A  bond  at  birth  is  forged ;  a  debt  doth  lie 
Immortal  on  mortality.    It  grows — 
By  bast  rebound  it  grows,  unceasing  growth ; 
Gift  upon  gift,  alms  upon  alms,  upreared, 
170 


WOT  YET,  MY  SOUL.  171 

From  man,  from  God,  from  nature,  till  the  soul 
At  that  so  huge  indulgence  stands  amazed. 

Leave  not,  my  soul,  the  unfoughten  field,  nor 

leave 

Thy  debts  dishonoured,  nor  thy  place  desert 
Without  due  service  rendered.     For  thy  life, 
Up,  spirit,  and  defend  that  fort. of  clay, 
Thy  body,  now  beleaguered ;  whether  soon 
Or  late  she  fall ;  whether  to-day  thy  friends 
Bewail  thee  dead,  or,  "after  years,  a  man 
Grown  old  in  honour  and  the  friend  of  peace. 
Contend,  my  soul,  for  moments  and  for  hours ; 
Each  is  with  service  pregnant ;  each  reclaimed 
Is  as  a  kingdom  conquered,  where  to  reign. 
As  when  a  captain  rallies  to  the  fight 
His  scattered  legions,  and  beats  ruin  back, 
He,  on  the  field,  encamps,  well  pleased  in  mind. 
Yet  surely  him  shall  fortune  overtake. 
Him  smite  in  turn,  headlong  his  ensigns  drive ; 
And  that  dear  land,  now  safe,  to-morrow  fall. 
But  he,  unthinking,  in  the  present  good 
Solely  delights,  and  all  the  camps  rejoice. 


XXV. 

IT  is  not  yours,  O  mother,  to  complain, 
Xot,  mother,  yours  to  weep. 
Though  nevermore  your  son  again 
Shall  to  your  bosom  creep. 

Though  nevermore  again  you  watch  your  baby 
sleep. 

Though  in  the  'greener  'paths  of  earth, 
Mother  and  child  no  more 
We  wander;  and  no  more  the  birth 
Of  me  whom  once  you  bore 
Seems  still  the  brave  reward  that  once  it  seemed 
of  yore ; 

Though  as  all  passes,  day  and  night, 
The  seasons  and  the  years, 
From  you,  O  mother,  this  delight, 
This  also  disappears — 

Some  profit  yet  survives  of  all  your  pangs  and 
tears. 

172 


IT  IS  NOT  YOURS,  O  MOTHER,  173 

The  child,  the  seed,  the  grain  of  corn. 
The  acorn  on  the  hill, 
Each  for  some  separate  end  is  born 
In  season  fit,  and  still 

Each  must  in  strength  arise  to  work  the  almighty 
will. 

So  from  the  hearth  the  children  flee, 
By  that  almighty  hand 
Austerely  led ;  so  one  by  sea 
Goes  forth,  and  one  by  land; 
Nor  aught  of  all  man's  sons  escape  from  that 
command. 

So  from  the  sally  each  obeys 
The  unseen  almighty  nod; 
So  till  the  ending  all  their  ways 
Blindfolded  loath  have  trod : 
Nor  knew  their  task  at  all,  but  were  the  tools  of 
God. 

And  as  the  fervent  smith  of  yore 
Beat  out  the  glowing  blade, 
Nor  wielded  in  the  front  of  war 


17-1          /'/'  IS  .NOT   r0r/?..9,  O  MOTHER. 

The  weapons  that  he  made. 

But  in  the  tower  at  home  still  plied  his  ringing 
trade ; 

So  like  a  sword  the  son  shall  roam 

On  nobler  missions  sent ; 

And  as  the  smith  remained  at  home 

In  peaceful  turret  pent, 

So  sits  the  while  at  home  the  mother  well  content. 


XXVI. 
THE  SICK  CHILD. 

Child— 

O  MOTHER,  lay  your  hand  on  my  brow ! 

0  mother,  mother,  where  am  I  now  ? 
Why  is  the  room  so  gaunt  and  great? 
Why  am  I  lying  awake  so  late? 

Mother — 

Fear  not  at  all :  the  night  is  still ; 
Nothing  is  here  that  means  you  ill — 
Nothing  but  Jamps  the  whole  town  through, 
And  never  a  child  awake  but  you. 

Child— 

Mother,  mother,  speak  low  in  my  ear, 
Some  of  the  things  are  so  great  and  near, 
Some  are  so  small  and  far  away, 

1  have  a  fear  that  I  cannot  say. 
What  have  I  done,  and  what  do  I  fear, 
And  why  are  you  crying,  mother  dear? 

J75 


176  THE  SICK  CHILD. 

Mother — 

Out  in  the  city,  sounds  begin ; 

Thank  the  kind  God.  the  carts  come  in ! 

An  hour  or  two  more,  and  God  is  so  kind, 

The  day  shall  be  blue  in  the  window-blind. 

Then  shall  my  child  go  sweetly  asleep. 

And  dream  of  the  birds  and  the  hills  of  sheep. 


XXVII. 
IN  MEMORIAM  F.  A.  S. 

YET,  O  stricken  heart,  remember,  O  remember 
How  of  human  days  he  lived  the  better  part. 

April  came  to  bloom  and  never  dim  December 
Breathed  its  killing  chills   upon  the  head  or 
heart. 

Doomed  to  know  not  winter,  only  spring,  a  being 
Trod  the  flowery  April  blithely  for  a  while, 

Took  his  fill  of  music,  joy  of  thought  and  seeing, 
Came  and  stayed  and  went,  nor  ever  ceased  to 
smile. 

Came  and  stayed  and  went,  and  now  when  all 

is  finished, 

You  alone  have  crossed  the  melancholy  stream, 
Yours  the  pang,  but  his,  O  his,  the  undiminished 
Undecaying  gladness,  undeparted  dream. 
177 


178  IN  MEMORIAM  F.  A.  S. 

All  that  life  contains  of  torture,  toil,  and  treason, 
Shame,  dishonour,  death,  to  him  were  but  a 

name. 
Here,  a  boy,  he  dwelt  through  all  the  singing 

season 
And   ere  the  day  of  sorrow   departed  as  he 

came. 
Davos,  1881. 


XXVIII. 
TO  MY  FATHER. 

PEACE  and  her  huge  invasion  to  these  shores 
Puts  daily  home  ;  innumerable  sails 
Dawn  on  the  far  horizon  and  draw  near; 
Innumerable  loves,  uncounted  hopes 
To  our  wild  coasts,  not  darkling  now,  approach : 
Not  now  obscure,  since  thou  and  thine  are  there, 
And  bright  on  the  lone  isle,  the  foundered  reef, 
The  long,  resounding  foreland,  Pharos  stands. 

These  are  thy  works,  O  father,  these  thy  crown ; 
Whether  on  high  the  air  be  pure,  they  shine 
Along  the  yellowing  sunset,  and  all  night 
Among  the  unnumbered  stars  of  God  they  shine ; 
Or  whether  fogs  arise  and  far  and  wide 
The  low  sea-level  drown — each  finds  a  tongue 
And  all  night  long  the  tolling  bell  resounds : 
So  shine,  so  toil,  till  night  be  overpast, 
179 


i8o  TO  MY  FATHER. 

Till  the  stars  vanish,  till  the  sun  return, 
And  in  the  haven  rides  the  fleet  secure. 

In  the  first  hour,  the  seaman  in  his  skiff 
Moves  through  the  unmoving  bay,  to  where  the 

town 

Its  earliest  smoke  into  the  air  upbreathes 
And  the  rough  hazels  climb  along  the  beach. 
To  the  tugg'd  oar  the  distant  echo  speaks. 
The  ship  lies  resting,  where  by  reef  and  roost 
Thou  and  thy  lights  have  led  her  like  a  child. 

This  hast  thou  done,  and  I — can  I  be  base? 

I  must  arise,  O  father,  and  to  port 

Some  lost,  complaining  seaman  pilot  home. 


XXIX. 

IN  THE  STATES. 

WITH  half  a  heart  I  wander  here 

As  from  an  age  gone  by 
A  brother — yet  though  young  in  years, 

An  elder  brother,  I. 

You  speak  another  tongue  than  mine, 
Though  both  were  English  born. 

I  toward  the  night  of  time  decline, 
You  mount  into  the  morn. 

Youth  shall  grow  great  and  strong  and  free, 

But  age  must  still  decay : 
To-morrow  for  the  States — for  me, 

England  and  Yesterday. 
San  Francisco. 


181 


XXX. 

A  PORTRAIT. 

I  AM  a  kind  of  farthing  dip, 

Unfriendly  to  the  nose  and  eyes; 

A  blue-behinded  ape.  I  skip 
Upon  the  trees  of  Paradise. 

At  mankind's  feast,  I  take  my  place 
In  solemn,  sanctimonious  state, 

And  have  the  air  of  saying  grace 
While  I  defile  the  dinner-plate. 

I  am  "the  smiler  with  the  knife," 
The  battener  upon  garbage,  I— 
,  Dear  Heaven,  with  such  a  rancid  life, 
\Yere  it  not  better  far  to  die? 

Vet  still,  about  the  human  pale, 
I  love  to  scamper,  love  to  race, 

To  swing  by  my  irreverent  tail 
All  over  the  most  holy  place ; 
182 


A  PORTRAIT.  183 

And  when  at  length,  some  golden  day, 
The  unfailing  sportsman,  aiming  at, 

Shall  bag  me — all  the  world  will  say, 
Thank  God,  and  there's  an  end  of  that! 


XXXI. 

SING  clearlier,  Muse,  or  evermore  be  still, 
Sing  truer  or  no  longer  sing ! 
No  more  the  voice  of  melancholy  Jacques 
To  make  a  weeping  echo  in  the  hill : 
But  as  the  boy,  the  pirate  of  the  spring, 
From  the  green  elm  a  living  linnet  takes, 
One  natural  verse  recapture — then  be  still. 


184 


XXXII. 
A  CAMP.1 

THE  bed  was  made,  the  room  was  fit, 
By  punctual  eve  the  stars  were  lit ; 
The  air  was  still,  the  water  ran, 
No  need  was  there  for  maid  or  man, 
When  we  put  up,  my  ass  and  I, 
At  God's  green  caravanserai. 

"Travels  with  a  Donkey." 


185 


XXXIII. 
THE   COUNTRY  OF  THE   CAMISARDS.1 

WE  travelled  in  the  print  of  olden  wars, 
Yet  all  the  land  was  green 
And  love  we  found,  and  peace, 
Where  fire  and  war  had  been.. 

They  pass  and  smile,  the  children  of  the  sword — 
Xo  more  the  sword  they  wield ; 
And  O,  how  deep  the  corn 
Along  the  battlefield ! 
"Travels  with  a  Donkey." 


186 


XXXIV. 

SKERRYVORE. 

FOR  love  of  lovely  words  and  for  the  sake 
Of  those,  my  kinsmen  and  my  countrymen, 
Who  early  and  late  in  the  windy  ocean  toiled 
To  plant  a  star  for  seamen,  where  was  then 
The  surfy  haunt  of  seals  and  cormorants : 
I,  on  the  lintel  of  this  cot,  inscribe 
The  name  of  a  strong  tower. 


XXXV. 

SKERRYVORE :   THE  PARALLEL. 

HERE  all  is  sunny,  and  when  the  truant  gull 

Skims  the  green  level  of  the  lawn,  his  wing 

Dispetals  roses :  here  the  house  is  framed 

Of  kneaded  brick  and  the  plumed  mountain  pine, 

Such  clay  as  artists  fashion  and  such  wood 

As  the  tree-climbing  urchin  breaks.    But  there 

Eternal  granite  hewn  from  the  living  isle 

And  dowelled  with  brute  iron,  rears  a  tower 

That  from  its  wet  foundation  to  its  crown 

Of  glittering  glass,  stands,  in  the  sweep  of  winds, 

Immovable,  immortal,  eminent. 


XXXVI. 

My  house,  I  say.    But  hark  to  the  sunny  doves 
That  make  my  roof  the  arena  of  their  loves, 
That  gyre  about  the  gable  all  day  long 
And    fill    the   chimneys    with    their   murmurous 

song: 

Our  house,  they  say ;  and  mine,  the  cat  declares 
And  spreads  his  golden  fleece  upon  the  chairs ; 
And  mine,  the  dog,  and  rises  stiff  with  wrath 
If  any  alien  foot  profane  the  path. 
So  too  the  buck  that  trimmed  my  terraces, 
Our  whilome  gardener,  called  the  garden  his ; 
Who  now,  deposed,  surveys  my  plain  abode     , 
And  his  late  kingdom,  only  from  the  road. 


XXXVII. 

MY  body,  which  my  dungeon  is, 
And  yet  my  parks  and  palaces: — 
Which  is  so  great  that  there  I  go 
All  the  day  long  to  and  fro, 
And  when  the  night  begins  to  fall 
Throw  down  my  bed  and  sleep,  while  all 
The  building  hums  with  wakefulness — 
Even  as  a  child  of  savages 
When  evening  takes  her  on  her  way 
(She  having  roamed  a  summer's  day 
Along  the  mountain  sides  and  scalp), 
Sleeps  in  an  antre  of  that  alp : — 
Which  is  so  broad  and  high  that  there, 
As  in  the  topless  fields  of  air, 
My  fancy  soars  like  to  a  kite 
And  faints  in  the  blue  infinite: — 
Which  is  so  strong,  my  strongest  throes 
And  the  rough  world's  besieging  blows 
Not  break  it,  and  so  weak  withal, 
190 


MY  BODY,  WHICH  MY  DUNGEON  IS. 

Death  ebbs  and  flows  in  its  loose  wall 
As  the  green  sea  in  fishers'  nets, 
And  tops  its  topmost  parapets : — 
Which  is  so  wholly  mine  that  I 
Can  wield  its  whole  artillery, 
And  mine  so  little,  that  my  soul 
Dwells  in  perpetual  control. 
And  I  but  think  and  speak  and  do 
As  my  dead  fathers  move  me  to : — 
If  this  born  body  of  my  bones 
The  beggared  soul  so  barely  owns, 
What  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 
What  creeping  custom  of  the  land, 
What  deed  of  author  or  assign, 
Can  make  a  house  a  thing  of  mine  ? 


XXXVIII. 

SAY  not  of  me  that  weakly  I  declined 
The  labours  of  my  sires,  and  fled  the  sea, 
The  towers  we  founded  and  the  lamps  we  lit, 
To  play  at  home  with  paper  like  a  child. 

But  rather  say :  In  the  afternoon  of  time 
A  strenuous  family  dusted  from  its  hands 
The  sand  of  granite,  and  beholding  far 
Along  the  sounding  coast  its  pyramids 
And  tall  memorials  catch  the  dying  sun, 
Smiled  u-ell  content,  and  to  this  childish  task 
Around  the  fire  addressed  its  evening  hours. 


BOOK  II.— IN  SCOTS. 

TABLE  OF  COMMON   SCOTTISH  VOWEL 
SOUNDS. 


>  =open  A.  as  in  rare, 
ai    ) 


au    >•  =.\\v,  as  in  law. 
aw  J 

ea      ^open  E,  as  in  mere,  but  this  with  exceptions,  as 
heather— heather,  \vean=\vain,  lear=lair. 

66    1 

ei     y  =open  E.  as  m  mere. 

ie     ) 

oa  =open  o,  as  in  more. 

ou  —doubled  o,  as  in  poor. 

ow=o\v.  as  in  bower. 

u    =doubled  o.  as  in  poor. 

ui  or  ii  before  R=(say  roughly)  open  A,  as  in  rare. 

ui  or  ii  before  any  other  consonant=(say  roughly)  close 
I,  as  in  grin. 

y    =open  r.  as  in  kite. 

i  —pretty  nearly  what  you  please,  much  as  in  English. 
Heaven  guide  the  reader  through  that  labyrinth ! 
But  in  Scots  it  dodges  usually  from  the  short  i, 
as  in  grin,  to  the  open  E.  as  in  mere.  Find  and 
blind,  I  may  remark,  are  pronounced  to  rhyme 
with  the  preterite  of  grin. 

'93 


I. 

THE  MAKER  TO  POSTERITY. 

FAR  'yont  amang  the  years  to  be, 
When  a'  we  think,  an/  a'  we  see, 
An'  a'  we  luve,  's  been  dung  ajee 

By  time's  rouch  shouther, 
An'  what  was  richt  and  wrang  for 

Lies   mangled   throu'ther, 

It's  possible — it's  hardly  mair — 
That  some  ane,  ripin'  after  lear — 
Some  auld  professor  or  young  heir, 

If  still  there's  either — 
May  find  an'  read  me,  an'  be  sair 

Perplexed,  puir  brither ! 

"What  tongue  does  your  auld  bookie  speak  f" 
He'll  spier ;  an'  I  his  mou  to  steik : 
"No  bein'  fit  to  write  in  Greek, 
I  wrote  in  Lallan, 
194 


THE  MAKER  TO  POSTERITY.  195 

Dear  to  my  heart  as  the  peat  reek, 
Auld  as  Tantallon. 


"Few  spak  it  than  an'  noo  there's  none. 
My  puir  auld  sangs  lie  a'  their  lane, 
Their  sense,  that  aince  was  braw  an'  plain, 

Tint  a'thegether, 
Like  runes  upon  a  standin'  stane 

Amang  the  heather. 

"But  think  not  you  the  brae  to  speel; 
You,  tae,  maun  chow  the  bitter  peel; 
For  a'  your  lear,  for  a'  your  skeel, 

Ye  're  nane  sae  lucky; 
An'  things  are  mebbe  waur  than  weel 

For  you,  my  buckle. 

"The  hale  concern  (baith  hens  an'  eggs, 
Baith  books  an'  writers,  stars  an'  clegs) 
Noo  stachers  upon  lowsent  legs 

An'  wears  awa' ; 
The  tack  o'  mankind,  near  the  dregs, 

Rins  unco  law. 


196  THE  MAKER  TO  POSTERITY. 

"Your  book,  that  in  some  braw  new  tongue, 
Ye  wrote  or  prentit,  pretched  or  sung, 
Will  still  be  just  a  bairn,  an'  young 

In  fame  an'  years, 
Whan  the  hale  planet's  guts  are  dung 

About  your  ears; 

"An'  you,  sair  gruppin'  to  a  spar 
Or  whammled  wi'  some  bleezin'  star, 
Cryin'  toe  ken  whaur  deil  ye  are, 

Hame,  France  or  Flanders — 
Whang  sindry  like  a  railway  car 

An'  flie  in  danders." 


II. 

ILLE  TERRARUM. 

FRAE  nirly,  nippin',  Eas'lan'  breeze, 
Frae  Norlan'  snaw,  an'  haar  o'  seas, 
Weel  happit  in  your  gairden  trees, 

A  bonny  bit, 
Atween  the  muckle  Pentland's  knees, 

Secure  ye  sit. 

Beeches  an'  aiks  entwine  their  theek, 
An'  firs,  a  stench,  atild- far  rant  clique. 
A'  simmer  day,  your  chimleys  reek, 
Couthy  and  bien ; 

An'  here  an'  there  your  windies  keek 
Amang  the  green. 

A  pickle  plats  an'  paths  an'  posies, 
A  vvheen  auld  gillyflowers  an'  roses: 
A  ring  o'  wa's  the  hale  encloses 
Frae  sheep  or  men ; 
197 


igg  ILLE  TERRARUM. 

An'  there  the  auld  housie  beeks  an'  dozes 
A'  by  her  lane. 

The  gairdner  crooks  his  weary  back 

A'  day  in  the  pitaty-track, 

Or  mebbe  stops  a  while  to  crack 

Wi'  Jane  the  cook, 
Or  at  some  buss,  worm-eaten-black, 

To  gie  a  look. 

Frae  the  high  hills  the  curlew  ca's ; 
The  sheep  gang  baaing  by  the  wa's ; 
Or  whiles  a  clan  o'  roosty  craws 

Cangle  together ; 
The  wild  bees  seek  the  gairden  raws, 

Weariet  wi'  heather. 

Or  in  the  gloamin'  douce  an*  gray 
The  sweet-throat  mavis  tunes  her  lay ; 
The  herd  comes  linkin'  doun  the  brae ; 

An'  by  degrees 
The  muckle  siller  miine  maks  way 

Amang  the  trees. 


ILLE   TERR  ARUM.  199 

Here  aft  hae  I,  wi'  sober  heart, 
For  meditation  sat  apairt, 
When  orra  loves  or  kittle  art 

Perplexed  my  mind ; 
Here  socht  a  balm  for  ilka  smart 

O'  humankind. 

Here  aft,  weel  neukit  by  my  lane, 
Wi'  Horace,  or  perhaps  Montaigne, 
The  mornin'  hours  hae  come  an'  gane 

Abiine  my  heid — 
I  wadnae  gi?en  a  chucky-stane 

For  a'  I'd  read. 

But  noo  the  auld  city,  street  by  street, 
An'  winter  fu'  o'  snaw  an'  sleet, 
A  while  shut  in  my  gangrel  feet 

An'  goavin'  mettle ; 
Noo  is  the  soopit  ingle  sweet, 

An'  liltin'  kettle. 

An'  noo  the  winter  winds  complain; 
Cauld  lies  the  glaur  in  ilka  lane ; 


200  ILLE    TERRARUM. 

On  draigled  hizzic,  tautit  wean, 

An'  drucken  lads. 
In  the  mirk  nicht,  the  winter  rain 

Dribbles  air  blads. 

Whan  bugles  frae  the  Castle  rock, 
An'  beaten  drums,  wi'  dowie  shock, 
Wauken,  at  cauld-rife  sax  o'clock, 

My  chitterin'  frame, 
I  mind  me  on  the  kintry  cock, 

The  kintry  hame. 

I  mind  me  on  yon  bonny  bield ; 
An'  Fancy  traivels  far  afield 
To  gaither  a'  that  gairdens  yield 

O'  sun  an'  Simmer: 
To  hearten  up  a  dowie  chield, 

Fancy's  the  limmer ! 


III. 

WHEN  aince  Aprile  has  fairly  come, 
An'  birds  may  bigg  in  winter's  lum, 
An'  pleisure's  spreid  for  a'  and  some 

O'  whatna  state, 
Love,  wi'  her  auld  recruitin'  drum, 

Than  taks  the  gate. 

The  heart  plays  dtmt  wi'  main  an'  micht ; 
The  lasses'  een  are  a'  sae  bricht, 
Their  dresses  are  sae  braw  an'  ticht, 

The  bonny  birdies ! — 
Puir  winter  virtue  at  the  sicht 

Gangs  heels  ower  hurdies. 

An'  aye  as  love  frae  land  to  land 
Tirls  the  drum  wi'  eident  hand, 
A'  men  collect  at  her  command 

Toun-bred  or  land'art, 
An'  follow  in  a  denty  band 
Her  gaucy  standard. 
aoi 


202     AINCE  APRILE  HAS  FAIRLY  COME. 

An'  I,  wha  sang  o'  rain  an'  snaw, 
An'  weary  winter  weel  awa', 
Noo  busk  me  in  a  jacket  braw, 

An'  tak  my  place 
F  the  ram-stam,  harum-scarum  raw 

Wi'  smilin7  face. 


IV. 
A  MILE  AN'  A  BITTOCK. 

A  MILE  an'  a  bittock,  a  mile  or  twa, 
Abiine  the  burn,  ayont  the  law, 
Davie  an'  Donal  an'  Cherlie  an'  a', 
An'  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly ! 

Ane  went  hame  wi'  the  ither,  an'  then 
The  ither  went  hame  wi'  the  ither  twa  men, 
An'  baith  wad  return  him  the  service  again, 
An'  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly ! 

The  clocks  were  chappin'  in  house  an'  ha', 
Eleeyen,  twal,  an'  ane  an'  twa ; 
An'  the  guidman's  face  was  turnt  to  the  wa', 
An'  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly ! 

A  wind  got  up  frae  affa  the  sea, 
It  blew  the  stars  as  dear's  could  be, 
203 


204  A  MILE  AN'  A  BITTOCK. 

It  blew  in  the  een  of  a'  o'  the  three, 
An'  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly ! 

Xoo,  Davie  was  first  to  get  sleep  in  his  head, 
''The  best  o'  frien's  maun  twine,"  he  said  ; 
"I'm  \veariet.  an'  here  I'm  awa'  to  my  bed." 
An'  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly ! 

Twa  o'  them  walkin'  an'  crackin'  their  lane, 
The  inornin'  licht  cam  gray  an'  plain, 
An'  the  birds  they  yammert  on  stick  an'  stane, 
An'  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly! 

O  years  ayont,  O  years  awa'. 
My  lads,  ye'll  mind  whate'er  befa' — 
My  lads,  ye'll  mind  on  the  bield  o'  the  law, 
When  the  miine  was  shinin'  clearly. 


V. 
A  LOWDEN  SABBATH  MORN. 

THE  clinkum-clank  o'  Sabbath  bells 
Noo  to  the  hoastin'  rookery  swells, 
Noo  faintin'  laigh  in  shady  dells, 

Sounds  far  an'  near, 
An'  through  the  simmer  kintry  tells 

Its  tale  o'  cheer. 

An'  noo,  to  that  melodious  play, 
A'  deidly  awn  the  quiet  sway — 
A'  ken  their  solemn  holiday, 

Bestial  an'  human, 
The  singin'  lintie  on  the  brae, 

The  restin'  plou'man. 

He,  mair  than  a'  the  lave  o'  men, 
His  week  completit  joys  to  ken ; 
Half-dressed,  he  daunders  out  an'  in, 
Perplext  wi'  leisure ; 
205 


206  A  LOIVDEN  SABBATH  MORN. 

An'  his  raxt  limbs  he'll  rax  again 
Wi'  painfii'  pleesure. 


The  steerin'  mither  strang  afit 
Noo  shoos  the  bairnies  but  a  bit ; 
Noo  cries  them  ben,  their  Sinday  shuit 

To  scart  upon  them, 
Or  sweeties  in  their  pouch  to  pit, 

Wi'  blessin's  on  them. 

The  lasses,  clean  frae  tap  to  taes, 
Are  busked  in  crunklin'  underclaes ; 
The  gartened  hose,  the  weel-filled  stays, 

The  nakit  shift, 
A'  bleached  on  bonny  greens  for  days, 

An'  white's  the  drift. 

An'  noo  to  face  the  kirkward  mile : 
The  guidman's  hat  o'  dacent  style, 
The  blackit  shoon,  we  noo  maun  fyle 

As  white's  the  miller ; 
A  waefii  peety  tae,  to  spile 

The  vvarth  o'  siller. 


A  LOWD1-X  SA It II AT II  MORN.  207 

Our  Marg'et,  aye  sae  keen  to  crack, 
Douce-stappin'  in  the  stoury  track, 
Her  emeralt  goun  a'  kiltit  back 

Frac  snawy  coats. 
\\~hite-ankled,  leads  the  kirkvvard  pack 

Wi'  Dauvit  Groats. 

A  thocht  ahint,  in  runkled  breeks 
A'  spiled  \vi'  lyin'  by  for  weeks, 
The  guidman  follows  closs,  an'  cleiks 

The  sonsie  missis  ; 
His  sarious  face  at  aince  bespeaks 

The  day  that  this  is. 

And  aye  an'  while  we  nearer  draw 
To  whaur  the  kirton  lies  alaw, 
Mair  neebors,  comin'  saft  an'  slaw 

Frae  here  an'  there, 
The  thicker  thrang  the  gate  an'  caw 

The  stour  in  air. 

But  hark!  the  bells  frae  nearer  clang; 
To  rowst  the  slaw,  their  sides  they  bang; 


208  A   LOW  DEN  SABBATH  MORN-. 

An'  see!  black  coats  a'ready  thrang 

The  green  kirkyaird, 
And  at  the  yett,  the  chestnuts  spang 

That  brocht  the  laird. 

The  solemn  elders  at  the  plate 
Stand  drinkin'  deep  the  pride  o'  state : 
That  practised  hands  as  gash  an'  great 

As    Lords    o'    Session; 
The  later  named,  a  wee  thing  blate 

In  their  expression. 

The  prentit  stanes  that  mark  the  deid, 
Wi'  lengthened  lip,  the  sarious  read; 
Syne  wag  a  moraleesin'  heid, 
An'  then  an'  there 

Their  hirplin'  practice  an'  their  creed 
Try  hard  to  square. 

It's  here  our  Merren  lang  has  lain, 

A  wee  bewast  the  table-stane ; 

An'  yon's  the  grave  o'  Sandy  Blane; 

An'  further  ower, 
The  mither's  brithers,   dacent  men ! 

Lie  a'  the  fower. 


A  LOW  DEN  SABBATH  MORN.  209 

Here  the  guidman  sail  bide  awee 
To  dwall  amang  the  deid ;  to  see 
Auld  faces  clear  in  fancy's  e'e; 

Belike   to    hear 
Auld   voices   fa'in'   saft  an'  slee 

On    fancy's    ear. 

Thus,  on  the  day  o'  solemn  things, 
The  bell  that  in  the  steeple  swings 
To  fauld  a  scaittered  faim'ly  rings 

Its  walcorne  screed ; 
An'  just  a  wee  thing  nearer  brings 

The    quick    an'    deid. 

But  noo  the  bell  is  ringin'  in ; 
To  tak  their  places,  folk  begin ; 
The  minister  himsel'  will  shiine 

Be  up  the  gate, 
Filled  fif  wi'  clavers  about  sin 

An'  man's  estate. 

The  tunes  are  up — French,  to  be  shure, 
The  faith fii'  French,  an'  twa-three  mair. 
The  auld  prezentor,  hoastin'  sair, 
Wales  out  the  portions, 


2io  A   LOH'DEX  SABBATH  MORN. 

An'  yirks  the  time  into  the  air 
\Yi*  queer  contortions. 

Follows  the  prayer,  the  readin'  next, 
An'  then  the  fisslin'  for  the  text — 
The-  twa-three  last  to  find  it,  vext 

But  kind  o'  proud  : 
An'  than  the  peppermints  are  raxed, 

An'  southernwood. 

For  noo's  the  time  whan  pows  are  seen 
Nid-noddin'  like  a  mandareen ; 
When  tenty  mithers  stap  a  preen 

In  sleepin'  weans ; 
An'  nearly  half  the  parochine 

Forget  their  pains. 

There's  just  a  waukrit"  twa  or  three: 
Thrawn  commentautors  sweer  to  'gree, 
Weans  glowrin'  at  the  bumblin'  bee 

On  windie-glasses, 
Or  lads  that  tak  a  keek  a-glee 

At  sonsie  lasses. 


A  LOWDEN  SABBATH  MORN.  211 

Himsel',  meanwhile,  frac  whaur  he  cocks 
An'  bobs  belaw  the  soundin'-box, 
The  treesures  of  his  words  unlocks 

Wi'  prodigality, 
An'  deals  some  unco  dingin'  knocks 

To  infidality. 

Wi'  sappy  unction,  hoo  he  burkes 
The  hopes  o'  men  that  trust  in  works, 
Expounds  the  fau'ts  o'  ither  kirks, 

An'  shaws  the  best  o'  them 
No  muckle  better  than  mere  Turks, 

When  a'  's  confessed  o'  them. 

Bethankit !  what  a  bonny  creed ! 

What  mair  could  ony  Christian  need  ? — 

The  braw  words  rumm'le  ower  his  heid, 

Nor  steer  the  sleeper ; 
An'  in  their  restin'  graves  the  deid 

Sleep  aye  the  deeper. 

NOTE. — It  may  be  guessed  by  some  that  I  had  a  certain 
parish  in  my  eye,  and  this  makes  it  proper  I  should  add  a 
word  of  disclamation.  In  my  time  there  have  been  two 
ministers  in  that  parish.  Of  the  first  I  have  a  special 


212  A  LOW  DEN  SABBATH  MORN. 

reason  to  speak  well,  even  had  there  been  any  to  think 
ill.  The  second  I  have  often  met  in  private,  and  long  (in 
the  due  phrase)  "sat  under"  in  his  church,  and  neither 
here  nor  there  have  I  heard  an  unkind  or  ugly  word  upon 
his  lips.  The  preacher  of  the  text  had  thus  no  original  in 
that  particular  parish ;  but  when  I  was  a  boy,  he  might 
have  been  observed  in  many  others ;  he  was  then  (like 
the  schoolmaster)  abroad;  and,  by  recent  advices,  it 
would  seem  he  has  not  yet  entirely  disappeared 


VI. 

THE  SPAEWIFE. 

O,  I  wad  like  to  ken — to  the  beggar-wife  says  I— 
Why  chops  are  guid  to  bander  and  nane  sae  guid 

to  fry. 
An'  siller,  that  's  sae  braw  to  keep,  is  brawer  still 

to  gi'e. 
• — It's  gey  an'  easy  spierin',  says  the  beggar-wife 

to  me. 

O,  I  wad  like  to  ken — to  the  beggar-wife  says  I — 
Hoo  a'  things  come  to  be  whaur  we  find  them 

when  we  try, 

The  lasses  in  their  claes  an'  the  fishes  in  the  sea. 
— It's  gey  an'  easy  spierin',  says  the  beggar-wife 

to  me. 

O,  I  wad  like  to  ken — to  the  beggar-wife  says  I— 
Why  lads  are  a'  to  sell  an'  lasses  a'  to  buy ; 
An*  naebody  for  dacency  but  barely  twa  or  three 
— It's  gey  an'  easy  spierin',  says  the  beggar-wife 
to  me. 

213 


214  THE  SPAEWIFE. 

O,  I  wad  like  to  ken — to  the  beggar-wife  says  I — 
Gin  death's  as  shure  to  men  as  killin'  is  to  kye, 
Why  God  has  filled  the  yearth  sae  fir  o'  tasty 

things  to  pree. 
— It's  gey  an'  easy  spierin',  says  the  beggar-wife 

to  me. 

O.  I  wad  like  to  ken — to  the  beggar-wife  says  I — 
The  reason  o'  the  cause  an'  the  wherefore  o'  the 

why, 
Wi'  mony  anither  riddle  brings  the  tear  unto  my 

e'e. 
— It's  gey  an'  easy  spierin',  says  the  beggar-wife 

to  me. 


VII. 
THE  BLAST— 1875. 

IT'S  rain  in'.    Weet's  the  gairden  sod, 
Weet  the  lang  roads  whaur  gangrels  plod- 
A  maist  unceevil  thing  o'  God 

In  mid  July — 
If  ye'll  just  curse  the  sneckdraw,  dod! 

An'  sae  wull  I ! 

% 

He's  a  braw  place  in  heev'n,  ye  ken, 
An'  lea's  us  puir,  forjaskit  men 
Clam  jam  fried  in  the  but  and  ben 

He  ca's  the  earth — 
A  wee  bit  inconvenient  den 

No  muckle  worth ; 

An'  whiles,  at  orra  times,  keeks  out, 
Sees  what  puir  mankind  are  about ; 
An'  if  He  can,  I've  little  doubt, 
Upsets  their  plans ; 
215 


216  THE  BLAST— 1875. 

He  hates  a'  mankind,  brainch  and  root, 
An  a'  that's  man's. 

An'  whiles,  whan  they  tak  heart  again, 
An'  life  i'  the  sun  looks  braw  an'  plain, 
Doun  comes  a  jaw  o'  droukin'  rain 

Upon  their  honours — 
God  sends  a  spate  outower  the  plain, 

Or  mebbe  thun'ers. 

-    Lord  safe  us,  life's  an  unco  thing! 
Simmer  air  Winter,  Yule  an'  Spring, 
The  damned,  dour-heartit  seasons  bring 

A  feck  o'  trouble. 
I  wadna  try  't  to  be  a  king — 

No,  nor  for  double. 

But  since  we're  in  it,  willy-nilly, 
We  maun  be  watchfu',  wise,  and  skilly 
An'  no  mind  ony  ither  billy, 

Lassie  nor  God. 
But  drink — that's  my  best  counsel  till  'e 

Sae  tak  the  nod. 


VIII. 
THE  COUNTERBLAST— 1886. 

MY  bonny  man,  the  warld,  it's  true, 
Was  made  for  neither  me  nor  you ; 
It's  just  a  place  to  warstle  through, 

As  Job  confessed  o't ; 
And  aye  the  best  that  we  '11  can  do 

Is  mak  the  best  o't. 

There's  rowth  o'  wrang,  I'm  free  to  say, 
The  simmer  brunt,  the  winter  blae, 
The  face  of  earth  a'  fyled  wi'  clay 

An'  dour  wi'  chuckies, 
An'  life  a  rough  an'  land'art  play 

For  country  buckies. 

An'  food's  anither  name  for  clart; 
An'  beasts  an'  brambles  bite  an'  scart ; 
An'  what  would  WE  be  like,  my  heart ! 
If  bared  o'  claethin'? 
217 


2i8  THE  COUNTERBLAST— 1886. 

— Aweel,  I  cannae  mend  your  cart : 
It's  that  or  naethin'. 


A  feck  o'  folk  frae  first  to  last 

Have  through  this  queer  experience  passed ; 

Twa-three,  I  ken,  just  damn  an'  blast 

The.  hale  transaction ; 
But  twa-three  ithers,  east  an'  wast, 

Fand   satisfaction. 

Whaur  braid  the  briery  muirs  expand, 

A  waefii'  an'  a  weary  land, 

The  bumblebees,  a  gowden  band, 

Are  blithely  hingin'; 
An'  there  the  canty  wanderer  land 

The  laverock  singin'. 

Trout  in  the  burn  grow  great  as  herr'n', 
The  simple  sheep  can  find  their  fair'n' ; 
The  wind  blaws  clean  about  the  cairn 

Wi'  caller  air; 
The  muircock  an'  the  barefit  bairn 

Are  happy  there. 


THE  COUNTERBLAST— 1886.  219 

Sic-like  the  howes  o'  life  to  some : 

Green  loans  whaur  they  ne'er  fash  their  thumb, 

But  mark  the  muckle  winds  that  come, 

Soopin'  an'  cool, 
Or  hear  the  povvrin'  burnie  drum 

In  the  shilfa's  pool. 

The  evil  wi'  the  guid  they  tak; 
They  ca'  a  gray  thing  gray,  no  black; 
To  a  steigh  brae,  a  stubborn  back 

Addressin'  daily ; 
An'  up  the  rude,  unbieldy  track 

O'  life,  gang  gayly. 

What  you  would  like  's  a  palace  ha', 
Or  Sinday  parlour  dink  an'  braw, 
Wi'  a'  things  ordered  in  a  raw 

By  denty  leddies. 
Weel,  than,  ye  cannae  hae't ;  that's  a' 

That  to  be  said  is. 

An'  since  at  life  ye've  taen  the  grue, 
An'  winnae  blithely  hirsle  through, 


220  Til II   COL'. \Tkkti  LAST— 1886. 

Ye've  fund  the  very  thing  to  do — 
That's  to  drink  speerit ; 

An'  shiine  we'll  hear  the  last  o'  you — 
An'  blithe  to  hear  it! 

The  shoon  ye  coft,  the  life  ye  lead, 
Ithers  will  heir  when  aince  ye're  deid ; 
They'll  heir  your  tasteless  bite  o'  breid, 

An'  find  it  sappy  ; 
They'll  to  your  dulefu'  house  succeed, 

An'  there  be  happy. 

As  whan  a  glum  an'  fractious  wean 
Has  sat  an'  sullened  by  his  lane 
Till'  \\T  a  rowstin'  skelp,  he's  taen 

An'  shoo'd  to  bed — 
The  ither  bairns  a'  fa'  to  play'n', 

As  gleg's  a  gled. 


IX. 
THE  COUNTERBLAST  IRONICAL. 

IT'S  strange  that  God  should  fash  to  frame 

The  yearth  and  lift  sac  hie, 
An'  clean  forget  to  explain  the  same 

To  a  gentleman  like  me. 

They  gutsy,  donnered  ither  folk, 

Their  weird  they  weel  may  dree ; 

But  why  present  a  pig  in  a  poke 
To  a  gentleman  like  me? 

They  ither  folk  their  parritch  eat 

An'  sup  their  sugared  tea  ; 
But  the  mind  is  no  to  be  wyled  vvi'  meat 

Wi'  a  gentleman  like  me. 

They  ither  folk,  they  court  their  joes 
At  gloamin'  on  the  lea ; 

221 


222         THE  COUNTERBLAST  IRONICAL. 

But  they're  made  of  a  commoner  clay,  I  suppose, 
Than  a  gentleman  like  me. 

They  ither  folk,  for  richt  or  wrang, 

They  suffer,  bleed,  or  dee ; 
But  a'  thir  things  are  an  emp'y  sang 

To  a  gentleman  like  me. 

It's  a  different  thing  that  I  demand, 

Tho'  humble  as  can  be — 
A  statement  fair  in  my  Maker's  hand 

To  a  gentleman  like  me : 

A  clear  account  writ  fair  an'  broad, 

An'  a  plain  apologie; 
Or  the  dcevil  a  ceevil  word  to  God 

From  a  gentleman  like  me. 


X. 

THEIR  LAUREATE  TO  AN  ACADEMY 
CLASS  DINNER  CLUB. 

DEAR  Thamson  class,  whaure'er  I  gang 
It  aye  comes  ower  me  wi'  a  spang : 
"Lordsake!  they  Thamson  lads — (deil  hang 

Of  else  Lord  mend  them!) — 
An'  that  ivanchancy  annual  sang 

I  ne'er  can  send  them!" 


Straucht,  at  the  name  a  trusty  tyke, 
My  conscience  girrs  ahint  the  dyke ; 
Straucht  on  my  hinderlands  I  fyke 

To  find  a  rhyme  t'  ye ; 
Pleased — although  mebbe  no  pleased-like 

To  gie  my  time  t'  ye. 

"Wed,"  an'  says  you,  wi'  heavin'  breist, 
"Sae  far,  sae  guid,  but  what's  the  neist? 
223 


224  TO  A  DINNER  CLUB. 

Yearly  we  gaither  to  the  feast, 

A'  hopefu'  men — 
Yearly  we  skclloch  'Hang  the  beast- 

Nae  sang  again !'  " 


My  lads,  an'  what  am  I  to  say? 
Ye  shiirely  ken  the  Muse's  way : 
Yestreen,  as  gleg's  a  tyke — the  day, 

Thrawn  like  a  cuddy  : 
Her  conduc',  that  to  her's  a  play, 

Deith  to  a  body. 

Aft  whan  I  sat  an'  made  my  mane, 
Aft  whan  I  laboured  burd-alane 
Fishin'  for  rhymes  an'  findin'  nane, 

Or  nane  were  fit  for  ye — 
Ye  judged  me  cauld's  a  chucky  stane- 

No  car'n'  a  bit  for  ye ! 

But  saw  ye  ne'er  some  pingein*  bairn 
As  weak  as  a  pitaty-par'n'— 
Less  iiscd  wi'  guidin'  horse-shoe  aim 
Than  steerin'  cvowdie — 


TO  A  DINNER  CLUB.  225 

Packed  aff  his  lane,  by  moss  an'  cairn, 
To  ca'  the  howdie. 


Wae's  me,  for  the  puir  callant  than  ! 
He  wambles  like  a  poke  o'  bran. 
An'  the  lowse  rein,  as  hard's  he  can, 

Pu's,  trem'lin  handit ; 
Till,  blaff!  upon  his  hinderlan' 

Behanld  him  landit. 

Sic-like — I  awn  the  weary  fac' — 
Whan  on  my  muse  the  gate  I  tak, 
An'  see  her  gleed  e'e  raxin*  back 

To  keek  ahint  her ; — 
To  me  the  brig  of  heev'n  gangs  black 

As  blackest  winter. 

"Lordsake!  zve'rc  off,"  thinks,  I,  "but  whatirf 
On  ivhat  abhorred  and  whinny  scaur, 
Or  ivJiammled  in  zvhat  sea  o'  glanr, 

Will  she  desert  me? 
An  will  she  just  disgrace?  or  waur — 

Will  she  no  hurt  me?" 


226  TO  A  DINNER  CLUB. 

Kittle  the  quaere !    But  at  least 

The  day  I've  becked  the  fashious  beast, 

While  she,  vvi'  mony  a  spang  an'  reist, 

Flang  heels  ower  bonnet ; 
An'  a'  triumphant — for  your  feast, 

Hae  !  there's  your  sonnet ! 


XL 
EMBRO  HIE  KIRK. 

THE  Lord  Himsel'  in  former  days 
Waled  out  the  proper  times  for  praise 
An'  named  the  proper  kind  of  claes 

For  folk  to  preach  in: 
Preceese  and  in  the  chief  o'  ways 

Important  teachin'. 

He  ordered  a'  things,  late  and  air'; 
He  ordered  folk  to  stand  at  prayer 
(Although  I  cannae  just  mind  where 

He  gave  the  warnin'), 
An'  pit  pomatum  on  their  hair 

On  Sabbath  mornin'. 

The  hale  o'  life  by  His  commands 
Was  ordered  to  a  body's  hands ; 
But  see !  this  corpus  juris  stands 
By  a'  forgotten; 
227 


228  KMBRO  HIE  KIRK. 

An'  God's  religion  in  a'  lands 
Is  deid  an'  rotten. 


While  thus  the  lave  o'  mankind's  lost, 
O'  Scotland  still  God  maks  His  boast— 
Puir  Scotland,  on  whose  barren  coast 

A  score  or  twa 
Auld  wives  wi'  mutches  an'  a  hoast 

Still  keep  His  law. 

In  Scotland,  a  wheen  canty,  plain, 
Douce  kintry-leevin'  folk  retain 
The  Truth — or  did  so  aince — alane 

Of  a'  men  leevin' ; 
An'  noo  just  twa  o'  them  remain — 

Just  Begg  an'  Niven. 

For  noo,  unfaithfii'  to  the  Lord 
Auld  Scotland  joins  the  rebel  horde ; 
Her  human  hymn-books  on  the  board 

She  noo  displays : 
An'  Embro  Hie  Kirk's  been  restored 

In  popish  ways. 


EMBRO  HIE  KIRK.  229 

O  punctum  temporis  for  action 
To  a'  o'  the  reformin'  faction, 
If  yet,  by  ony  act  or  paction, 

Thocht,  word,  or  sermon, 
This  dark  an'  damnable  transaction 

Micht  yet  determine! 

For  see — as  Doctor  Begg  explains — 
Hoo  easy  't  's  diine !  a  pickle  weans, 
Wha  in  the  Hie  Street  gaither  stanes 

By  his  instruction, 
The  uncovenantit,  pentit  panes 

Ding  to  destruction. 

Up,  Niven,  or  ower  late — an'  dash 
Laigh  in  the  glaur  that  carnal  hash ; 
Let  spires  and  pews  wi'  gran'  stramash 

Thegether  fa' ; 
The  rtimlin'  kist  o'  whustles  smash 

In  pieces  sma'. 

Noo  choose  ye  out  a  walie  hammer ; 
About  the  knottit  buttress  clam'er; 


230  EMBRO  HIE  KIRK. 

Alang  the  steep  roof  stoyt  an'  stammer, 

A  gate  mis-chancy ; 
On  the  aul'  spire,  the  bells'  hie  cha'mer. 

Dance  your  bit  dancie. 

Ding,  devel,  dunt,  destroy,  an'  ruin, 
Wi'  carnal  stanes  the  square  bestrewin', 
Till  your  loud  chaps  frae  Kyle  to  Fruin, 

Frae  hell  to  heeven, 
Tell  the  guid  wark  that  baith  are  doin' — 

Baith  Begg  an'  Niven. 


XII. 

THE  SCOTSMAN'S  RETURN  FROM 
ABROAD. 

(In  a  letter  from  Mr.  Thomson  to  Mr.  Johnstone.) 
IN  mony  a  foreign  pairt  I've  been, 
An'  mony  an  unco  ferlie  seen, 
Since,  Mr.  Johnstone,  you  and  I 
Last  walkit  upon  Cocklerye. 
Wi'  gleg,  observant  een,  I  pass't 
By  sea  an'  land,  through  East  an'  Wast, 
And  still  in  ilka  age  an'  station 
Saw  naething  but  abomination. 
In  thir  uncovenantit  lands 
The  gangrel  Scot  uplifts  his  hands 
At  lack  of  a'  sectarian  fiish'n, 
An'  cauld  religious  destitution. 
He  rins,  puir  man,  frae  place  to  place, 
Tries  a'  their  graceless  means  o'  grace, 
Preacher  on  preacher,  kirk  on  kirk — 
This  yin  a  stot  an'  thon  a  stirk — 
231 


232  THE  SCOTSMAN'S 

A  bletherin'  clan,  no  warth  a  preen, 
As  bad  as  Smith  of  Aiberdeen  ! 

At  last,  across  the  weary  faem. 
Frae  far,  outlandish  pairts  I  came. 
On  ilka  side  o'  me  I  fand 
Fresh  tokens  o'  my  native  land. 
Wi'  vvhatna  joy  I  hailed  them  a' — 
The  hilltaps  standin'  raw  by  raw, 
The  public  house,  the  Hielan'  birks, 
And  a'  the  bonny  U.  P.  kirks! 
But  maistly  thee,  the  bluid  o'  Scots, 
Frae  Maidenkirk  to  John  o'  Grots, 
The  king  o'  drinks,  as  I  conceive  it, 
Talisker.  Isla,  or  Glenlivet! 

For  after  years  wi'  a  pockmantie 
Frae  Zanzibar  to  Alicante. 
In  mony  a  fash  an'  sair  affliction 
I  gie  't  as  my  sincere  conviction — 
Of  a'  their  foreign  tricks  an'  pliskies, 
I  maist  abominate  their  whiskies. 
Nae  doot,  themsel's,  the)-  ken  it  weel, 
An'  wi  a  hash  o'  leemon  peel, 


RETURN  FROM  ABROAD.       233 

An'  ice  an'  siccan  filth,  they  ettle 

The  stawsome  kind  o'  goo  to  settle ; 

Sic  wersh  apothecary's  broos  wi' 

As  Scotsmen  scorn  to  fyle  their  moo's  wi'. 

An',  man,  I  was  a  blithe  hame-comer 
Whan  first  I  syndit  out  my  rummer. 
You  should  hae  seen  me  then,  wi'  care 
The  less  important  pairts  prepare; 
Syne,  weel  contentit  wi'  it  a' 
Pour  in  the  speerits  wi'  a  jaw  ! 
I  didnae  drink,  I  didnae  speak — 
I  only  snowkit  up  the  reek. 
I  was  sae  pleased  therein  to  paidle, 
I  sat  an'  plowtered  wi'  my  ladle. 

An'  blithe  was  I.  the  morrow's  morn, 
To  daunder  through  the  stookit  corn, 
And  after  a'  my  strange  mishanters, 
Sit  doun  amang  my  ain  dissenters. 
An'  man,  it  was  a  joy  to  me 
The  pu'pit  an'  the  pews  to  see, 
The  pennies  dirlin'  in  the  plate, 
The  elders  lookin'  on  in  state; 


234  THE  SCOTSMAN'S 

An'  'mang  the  first,  as  it  befell. 
Wha'  should  I  see,  sir,  but  yoursel'? 

I  was,  and  I  will  no  deny  it,     , 

At  the  first  glifT  a  hantle  tryit 

To  see  yoursel'  in  sic  a  station — 

It  seemed  a  doubtfu  dispensation. 

The  feelin'  \vas  a  mere  digression ; 

For  shiine  I  understood  the  session, 

An'  mindin'  Aiken  an'  M'Neil, 

I  wondered  they  had  diine  sae  weel. 

I  saw  I  had  mysel'  to  blame; 

For  had  I  but  remained  at  hame, 

Aiblins — though  no  ava'  deservin'  't — 

They  might  hae  named  your  humble  servant. 

The  kirk  was  filled,  the  door  was  steeked ; 

Up  to  the  pu'pit  ance  I  keeked ; 

I  was  mair  pleased  than  I  can  tell — 

It  was  the  minister  himsel' ! 

Proud,  proud  was  I  to  see  his  face, 

After  sae  lang  awa'  frae  grace. 

Pleased  as  I  was,  I'm  no  denyin' 

Some  maitters  were  not  edifyin' ; 

For  first  I  fand — an'  here  was  news! — 


RETURN  FROM  ABROAD.  235 

Mere  hymn-books  cockin'  in  the  pews — 

A  humanized  abomination, 

Unfit  for  ony  congregation. 

Syne,  while  I  still  was  on  the  tenter, 

I  scunnered  at  the  new  prezentor; 

I  thocht  him  gesterin'  an'  cauld — 

A  sair  declension  frae  the  auld. 

Syne,  as  though  a'  the  faith  was  wreckit, 

The  prayer  was  not  what  I'd  exspeckit. 

Himsel',  as  it  appeared  to  me, 

Was  no  the  man  he  used  to  be. 

But  just  as  I  was  growin'  vext 

He  waled  a  maist  judeecious  text, 

An'  launchin'  into  his  prelections, 

Swoopt,  wi'  a  skirl,  on  a'  defections. 

0  what  a  gale  was  on  my  speerit 

To  hear  the  p'ints  o'  doctrine  clearit, 
And  a'  the  horrors  o'  damnation 
Set  furth  wi'  faithfu'  ministration  ! 
Nae  shauchlin'  testimony  here — 
We  were  a'  damned,  an'  that  was  clear. 

1  owned,  wi'  gratitude  an'  wonder, 
He  was  a  pleisure  to  sit  under. 


XIII. 

LATE  in  the  nicht  in  bed  I  lay, 

The  winds  were  at  their  weary  play, 

An'  tirlin'  wa's  an'  skirlin'  wae 

Through  heev'n  they  battered  ; — 
On-ding  o'  hail,  on-blafif  o'  spray, 

The  tempest  blattered. 

The  masoned  house  it  dinled  through; 
It  dung  the  ship,  it  cowped  the  coo' ; 
The  rankit  aiks  it  overthrew. 

Had  braved  a'  weathers  ; 
The  strang  sea-gleds  it  took  an'  blew 

Awa'  like  feathers. 

The  thraes  o'  fear  on  a'  were  shed. 
An'  the  hair  rose,  an'  slumber  fled, 
An'  lichts  were  lit  an'  prayers  were  said 

Through  a'  the  kintry ; 
An'  the  cauld  terror  clum  in  bed 

Wi'  a'  an'  sindry. 
236 


LATE  IN  THE  NICHT.  237 

To  hear  in  the  pit-mirk  on  hie 
The  brangled  collieshangie  flie, 
The  waiT  they  thocht,  wi'  land  an'  sea, 

Itsel'  wad  cowpit ; 
An'  for  auld  aim,  the  smashed  debris 

By  God  be  rowpit. 

Meanwhile  frae  far  Aldeboran, 
To  folks  wi'  talescopes  in  han', 
O'  ships  that  cowpit,  winds  that  ran, 

Nae  sign  was  seen, 
But  the  wee  warl'  in  sunshine  span 

As  bricht  's  a  preen. 

I,  tae,  by  God's  especial  grace, 
Dwall  denty  in  a  bieldy  place 
Wi'  hosened  feet,  wi'  shaven  face, 

Wi'  dacent  mainners : 
A  grand  example  to  the  race 

O'  tautit  sinners ! 

The  wirid  may  blaw,  the  heathen  rage, 
The  deil  may  start  on  the  rampage ; — 


238  LATE  IN  THE  NICHT. 

The  sick  in  bed,  the  thief  in  cage 
What's  a'  to  me? 

Cosh  in  my  house,  a  sober  sage, 
I  sit  an'  see. 


An'  whiles  the  bluid  spangs  to  my  bree, 
To  lie  sae  saft,  to  live  sae  free, 
While  better  men  maun  do  an'  die 

In  unco  places. 
"Whaur's  God?  I  cry,  an'  "Whae  is  me 

To  hae  sic  graces?" 

I  mind  the  fecht  the  sailors  keep, 
But  fire  or  can'le,  rest  or  sleep, 
In  darkness  an'  the  muckle  deep ; 

An'  mind  beside 
The  herd  that  on  the  hills  o'  sheep 

Has  wandered  wide. 

I  mind  me  on  the  hoastin'  weans — 
The  penny  joes  on  causey  stanes — 
The  aid  folk  wi'  the  crazy  banes, 
Baith  auld  an'  puir, 


LATE  l.\   THH  XJC1JT.  239 

That  aye  maun  thole  the  winds  an'  rains 
An'  labour  sair. 


An'  whiles  I'm  kind  o'  pleased  a  blink, 
An'  kind  o'  fleyed  forby,  to  think, 
For  a'  my  rowth  o'  meat  an'  drink 

An'  waste  o'  crumb, 
I'll  mebbe  have  to  thole  wi'  skink 

In  Kingdom  Come. 

For  God  whan  jowes  the  Judgment  bell, 
Wi'  His  ain  Hand,  His  Leevin'  Sel', 
Sail  ryve  the  guid  (as  Prophets  tell) 

Frae  them  that  had  it ; 
And  in  the  reamin'  pat  o'  hell, 

The  rich  be  scaddit. 

O  Lord,  if  this  indeed  be  sae, 
Let  daw  that  sair  an'  happy  day ! 
Again'  the  warl,  grawn  aukl  an'  gray, 

LTp  wi'  your  aixe! 
An'  let  the  puir  enjoy  their  play — 
I'll  thole  my  paiks. 


XIV. 

MY  CONSCIENCE. 

OF  a'  the  ills  that  flesh  can  fear. 
The  loss  o'  frien's.  the  lack  o'  gear. 
A  yovvlin'  tyke,  a  glandered  mear. 

A  lassie's  nonsense — 
There's  just  ae  thing  I  cannae  hear, 

An'  that's  my  conscience. 

Whan  day  (an'  a'  excuse )  has  gane, 
An'  wark  is  dime,  an'  duty's  plain. 
An'  to  my  chalmer  a'  my  lane 

I  creep  apairt. 
My  conscience!  hoo  the  yammerin'  pain 

Stends  to  my  heart ! 

A'  day  wi'  various  ends  in  view 
The  hairsts  o'  time  I  had  to  pu'. 
An'  made  a  hash  wad  staw  a  soo, 
Let  be  a  man  ! — 
240 


MY  CONSCIENCE!  241 

My  conscience !  whan  my  ban's  were  fu', 
Whaur  were  ye  than  ? 

An'  there  was  a'  the  lures  o'  life, 
There  pleasure  skirlin'  on  the  fife, 
There  anger,  \vi'  the  hotchin'  knife 

Ground  shairp  in  hell— 
My  conscience! — you  that's  like  a  wife! — 

Whar  was  yoursel'? 

I  ken  it  fine :  just  waitin'  here, 

To  gar  the  evil  waur  appear. 

To  clart  the  guid,  confuse  the  clear, 

Mis-ca'  the  great. 
My  conscience !  an'  to  raise  a  steer 

Whan  a's  ower  late. 

Sic-like,  some  tyke  grawn  auld  and  blind, 
Whan  thieves  hrok'  through  the  gear  to  p'ind, 
Has  lain  his  dozened  length  an'  grinned 

At  the  disaster ; 

An'  the  morn's  mornin',  wud's  the  wind, 
Yokes  on  his  master. 


XV. 
TO  DOCTOR  JOHN  BROWN. 

(Whan  the  dear  doctor,  dear  to  a' 
Was  still  among  ns  here  belaw, 
I  scb  my  pif>es  his  praise  to  blaiv 

Wi'  a'  my  speerit ; 
But  noo.  Dear  Doctor,  he's  awa', 
An'  ne'er  ca  hear  it.  ) 

BY  Lyne  and  Tyne.  by  Thames  and  Tees, 

By  a'  the  various  river-Dee's, 

In  Mars  and  Manors  'yont  the  seas 

Or  here  at  hame, 
Whaure'er  there's  kindly  folk  to  please, 

They  ken  your  name. 

They  ken  your  name,  they  ken  your  tyke, 
They  ken  the  honey  from  your  byke ; 
But  mebbe  after  a'  your  fyke, 
(The  truth  to  tell) 
242 


TO  DOCTOR  JOHN  BROWN.  243 

It's  just  your  honest  Rab  they  like, 
An'  no  yoursel'. 


As  at  the  gowff,  some  canny  play'r 
Should  tee  a  common  ba'  wi'  care — 
Should  flourish  and  deleever  fair 

His  souple  shintie — 
An'  the  ba'  rise  into  the  air, 

A  leevin'  lintie : 

Sae  in  the  game  we  writers  play, 
There  comes  to  some  a  bonny  day, 
When  a  dear  ferlie  shall  repay 

Their  years  o'  strife, 
An'  like  your  Rab,  their  things  o'  clay, 

Spreid  wings  o'  life. 

Ye  scarce  deserved  it,  I'm  afraid — 
You  that  had  never  learned  the  trade, 
But  just  some  idle  mornin'  strayed 

Into  the  schule, 
An'  picked  the  fiddle  up  an'  played 

Like  Neil  himsel'. 


244  TO  DOCTOR  JOHN  BROWN. 

Your  e'e  was  gleg,  your  fingers  dink ; 
Ye  didna  fash  yoursel'  to  think, 
But  wove,  as  fast  as  puss  can  link, 

Your  denty  web: — 
Ye  stapped  your  pen  into  the  ink, 

An'  there  was  Rab! 

Sinsyne,  whaure'er  your  fortune  lay 
By  dowie  den,  by  canty  brae. 
Simmer  an'  winter,  nicht  an'  day, 

Rab  was  aye  wi'  ye  ; 
An'  a'  the  folk  on  a'  the  way 

Were  blithe  to  see  ye. 

O  sir,  the  gods  are  kind  indeed, 
An'  hauld  ye  for  an  honoured  heid, 
That  for  a  wee  bit  clarkit  screed 

Sae  weel  reward  ye, 
An'  lend — puir  Rabbie  bein'  deid — 

His  ghaist  to  guard  ye. 

For  though,  whaure'er  yoursel'  may  be, 
We've  just  to  turn  an'  glisk  a  wee, 


TO  DOCTOR  JOHN  BROWN.  245 

An'  Rab  at  heel  we're  shure  to  see 

Wi'  gladsome  caper : — 
The  bogle  of  a  bogle,  he — 

A  ghaist  o'  paper ! 

And  as  the  auld  farrand  hero  sees 

In  hell  a  bogle  Hercules, 

Pit  there  the  lesser  deid  to  please, 

While  he  himsel' 
Dwalls  wi'  the  muckle  gods  at  ease 

Far  raised  frae  hell : 

Sae  the  true  Rabbie  far  has  gane 

On  kindlier  business  o'  his  ain 

Wi'  aulder  frien's ;  an'  his  breist-bane 

An'  stumpie  taiHe, 
He  birstles  at  a  new  hearth  stane 
By  James  and  Aailie. 


XVI. 

IT'S  an  overcome  sooth  for  age  an'  youth 

And  it  brooks  wi'  nae  denial, 
That  the  dearest  friends  are  the  auldest  friends 

And  the  young  are  just  on  trial. 

There's  a  rival  banld  \vi'  young  an'  auld 

And  it's  him  that  has  bereft  me ; 
For  the  surest  friends  are  the  auldest  friends 

And  the  maist  o'  mine  hae  left  me. 

There  are  kind  hearts  still,  for  friends  to  fill 
And  fools  to  take  and  break  them : 

But  the  nearest  friends  are  the  auldest  friends 
And  the  grave's  the  place  to  seek  them. 


246 


THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO. 


247 


TO  ORI  A  OKI. 

Ori,  my  brother  in  the  island  mode. 

In  every  tongue  and  meaning  muck  my  friend, 

This  story  of  your  country  and  your  clan, 

In  your  loved  house,  your  too  mu-ch  honoured  guest, 

I  made  in  English.     Take  it,  being  done; 

And  let  me  sign  it  with  the  name  you  gave. 

TERHTERA. 


248 


THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO :  A  LEGEND  OF 
TAHITI. 

I.       THE   SLAYING  OF   TAMATEA. 

IT  fell  in  the  days  of  old,  as  the  men  of  Taiarapu 

tell, 
A  youth  went  forth  to  the  fishing,  and  fortune 

favoured   him  well. 

Tamatea  his  name :  gullible,  simple,  and  kind, 
Comely  of  countenance,  nimble  of  body,  empty 

of  mind, 
His  mother  ruled  him  and  loved  him  beyond  the 

wont  of  a  wife, 
Serving  the  lad  for  eyes  and  living  herself  in  his 

life, 

Alone  from  the  sea  and  the  fishing  came  Tama- 
tea the  fair, 

Urging  his  boat  to  the  beach,  and  the  mother 
awaited  him  there, 
249 


250  THE   SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

— "Long  may  you  live!"  said  she.  "Your  fish- 
ing has  sped  to  a  wish. 

And  now  let  us  choose  for  the  king  the  fairest 
of  all  your  fish.  I0 

For  fear  inhabits  the  palace  and  grudging  grows 
in  the  land, 

Marked  is  the  sluggardly  foot  and  marked  the 
niggardly  hand, 

The  hours  and  the  miles  are  counted,  the  trib- 
utes numbered  and  weighed, 

And  woe  to  him  that  comes  short,  and  woe  to 
him  that  delayed !" 

.So  spoke  on  the  beach  the  mother,  and  coun- 
selled the  wiser  thing. 

For  Rahero  stirred  in  the  country  and  secretly 
mined  the  king. 

Nor  were  the  signals  wanting  of  how  the  leaven 
wrought, 

In  the  cords  of  obedience  loosed  and  the  trib- 
utes grudgingly  brought. 

And  when  last  to  the  temple  of  Oro  the  boat 
with  the  victim  sped, 


A  LEGEND  O/>'  TAHITI.  251 

And  the  priest  uncovered  the  basket  and  looked 
on  the  face  of  the  dead,  2° 

Trembling  fell  upon  all  at  sight  of  an  ominous 
thing, 

For  there  was  the  aito1 :  dead,  and  he  of  the  house 
of  the  king. 

So  spake  on  the  beach  the  mother,  matter  worthy 

of  note, 
And  wattled  a  basket  well,  and  chose  a  fish  from 

the  boat ; 
And  Tamatea  the  pliable  shouldered  the  basket 

and  went. 
And  travelled,  and  sang  as  he  travelled,  a  lad 

that    was   well    content. 
Still   the  way  of  his  going  was  round   by  the 

roaring  coast. 
Where  the  ring  of  the  reef  is  broke  and  the  trades 

run  riot  the  most. 
On  his  left,  with  smoke  as  of  battle,  the  billows 

battered  the  land ; 
Unscalable,  turreted  mountains  rose  on  the  inner 

hand.  30 


252 

And  cape,  and  village  and  river,  and  vale,  and 
mountain  above, 

Each  had  a- name  in  the  land  for  men  to  remem- 
ber and  love ; 

And  never  the  name  of  a  place,  but  lo!  a  song 
in  its  praise : 

Ancient  and  unforgotten,  songs  of  the  earlier 
days. 

That  the  elders  taught  to  the  young,  and  at  night, 
in  the  full  of  the  moon, 

Garlanded  boys  and  maidens  sang  together  in 
tune. 

Tamatea  the  placable  went  with  a  lingering  foot ; 

He  sang  as  loud  as  a  bird,  he  whistled  hoarse 
as  a  flute ; 

He  broiled  in  the  sun,  he  breathed  in  the  grate- 
ful shadow  of  trees, 

In  the  icy  stream  of  the  rivers  he  waded  over  the 
knees ; 

And  still  in  his  empty  mind  crowded,  a  thousand- 
fold, 

The  deeds  of  the  strong  and  the  songs  of  the 
cunning  heroes  of  old. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  253 

And  now  was  he  come  to  a  place  Taiarapu  hon- 
oured the  most, 
Where  a  silent  valley  of  woods  debouched  on 

the  noisy  coast, 

Spewing  a  level  river.  There  was  a  haunt  of  Pai.* 
There,   in   his  potent  youth,   when   his   parents 

drove  him  to  die, 
Honoura  lived  like  a  beast,  lacking  the  lamp  and 

the  fire, 
Washed  by  the  rains  of  the  trade  and  clotting 

his  hair  in  the  mire ; 
And  there,  so  mighty  his  hands,  he  bent  the  tree 

to  his  foot — 
So  keen  the  spur  of  his  hunger,  he  plucked  it 

naked  of  fruit.  so 

There,  as  she  pondered  the  clouds  for  the  shadow 

of  coming  ills, 
Ahupu,  the  woman  of  song,  walked  on  high  on 

the  hills. 

Of  these  was  Rahero  sprung,  a  man. of  a  godly 

race; 
And  inherited  cunning  of  spirit  and  beauty  of 

body  and  face. 


254  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

Of  yore  in  his  youth,  as  an  aito,  Rahero  wan- 
dered the  land, 

Delighting  maids  with  his  tongue,  smiting  men 
with  his  hand. 

Famous  he  was  in  his  youth;  but  before  the 
midst  of  his  life 

Paused,  and  fashioned  a  song  of  farewell  to 
glory  and  strife. 

House  of  mine  (it  went},  house  upon  the 

sea, 
Beloi/d  of  all  my  fathers,  more  belov'd 

by  me!  6o 

Vale  of  the  strong  Honoura,  deep  ravine 

of  Pal, 
Again  in  your  woody  summits  I  hear  the 

trade-wind  cry. 

•  House  of  mine,  in  your    walls,    strong 

sounds  of  the  sea, 
Of  all  sounds  on  earth,  dearest  sound  to 

me. 
I  have  heard  the  applause  of  men,  I  have 

heard  it  arise  and  die: 
Sweeter  now  in  my  house  I  hear  the  trade 

wind  cry. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  255 

These  were  the  words  of  his  singing,  other  the 
thought  of  his  heart ; 

For  secret  desire  of  glory  vexed  him,  dwelling 
apart. 

Lazy  and  crafty  he  was,  and  loved  to  lie  in  the 
sun, 

And  loved  the  cackle  of  talk  and  the  true  word 
uttered  in  fun  ;  70 

Lazy  he  was,  his  roof  was  ragged,  his  table  was 
lean, 

And  the  fish  swam  safe  in  his  sea,  and  he  gath- 
ered the  near  and  the  green. 

He  sat  in  his  house  and  laughed,  hut  he  loathed 
the  king  of  the  land. 

And  he  uttered  the  grudging  word  under  the 
covering  hand. 

Treason  spread  from  his  door ;  and  he  looked 
for  a  day  to  come, 

A  day  of  the  crowding  people,  a  day  of  the  sum- 
moning drum, 

When  the  vote  should  be  taken,  the  king  be 
driven  forth  in  disgrace, 

And  Rahero,  the  laughing  and  lazy,  sit  and 
rule  in  his  place. 


256  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

Here  Tamatea  came,  and  beheld  the  house  on 
the  brook ; 

And  Rahero  was  there  by  the  way  and  cov- 
ered an  oven  to  cook,3  80 

Naked  he  was  to  the  loins,  but  the  tattoo  cov- 
ered the  lack, 

And  the  sun  and  the  shadow  of  palms  dappled 
his  muscular  back. 

Swiftly  he  lifted  his  head  at  the  fall  of  the  com- 
ing- feet. 

And  the  water  sprang  in  his  mouth  with  a  sud- 
den desire  of  meat ; 

For  he  marked  the  basket  carried,  covered  from 
flies  and  the  sun  ;4 

And  Rahero  buried  his  fire,  but  the  meat  in  his 
house  was  done. 

Forth  he  stepped ;  and  took,  and  delayed  the  boy, 

by  the  hand; 
And  vaunted  the  joys  of  meat  and  the  ancient 

ways  of  the  land : 
— "Our  sires  of  old  in  Taiarapu,  they  that  created 

the  race, 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  257 

Ate  ever  with  eager  hand,  nor  regarded  season 

or  place  90 

Ate  in  the  boat  at  the  oar,  on  the  way  afoot; 

and  at  night 
Arose  in  the  midst  of  dreams  to  rummage  the 

house  for  a  bite. 
It  is  good  for  the  youth  in  his  turn  to  follow 

the  way  of  the  sire; 
And  behold  how  fitting  the  time !   for  here  do 

[  cover  my  fire." 
— "I  see  the  fire  for  the  cooking  but  never  the 

meat  to  cook," 
Said  Tamatea. — "Tut!"  said  Rahero.     "Here  in 

the  brook 
And   there  in  the  tumbling  sea,   the  fishes  are 

thick  as  flies. 
Hungry    like    healthy    men,    and    like    pigs    for 

savour  and  size: 
Crayfish  crowding  the  river,  sea-fish  thronging 

the  sea." 
— "Well  it  may  be,"  says  the  other,  "and  yet  be 

nothing  to  me.  100 

Fain  would  I  eat,  but  alas !  I  have  needful  mat- 
ter in  hand, 


258  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

Since  I  carry  my  tribute  of  fish  to  the  jealous 
king  of  the  land." 

Now  at  the  word  a  light  sprang  in  Rahero's  eyes. 
"I  will  gain  me  a  dinner,"  thought  he,  "and  lend 

the  king  a  surprise." 
And  he  took  the  lad  by  the  arm,  as  they  stood 

by  the  side  of  the  track, 
And  smiled,  and  rallied,  and  flattered,  and  pushed 

him  forward  and  back. 
It  was  "You  that  sing  like  a  bird,  I  never  have 

heard  you  sing," 
And  "The  lads  when  I  was  a  lad  were  none    so 

feared  of  a  king. 
And  of  what  account  is  an  hour,  when  the  heart 

is  empty  of  guile? 
But  come,  and  sit  in  the  house  and  laugh  with 

the  women  awhile;  "° 

And  I  will  but  drop  my  hook,  and  behold !  the 

dinner  made." 

So  Tamatea  the  pliable  hung  up  his  fish  in  the 
shade 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  259 

On  a  tree  by  the  side  of  the  way;  and  Rahero 
carried  him  in, 

Smiling  as  smiles  the  fowler  when  flutters  the 
bird  to  the  gin, 

And  chose  him  a  shining  hook,5  and  viewed  it 
with  sedulous  eye, 

And  breathed  and  burnished  it  well  on  the  brawn 
of  his  naked  thigh, 

And  set  a  mat  for  the  gull,  and  bade  him  be  merry 
and  bide, 

Like  a  man  concerned  for  his  guest,  and  the  fish- 
ing, and  nothing  beside. 

Now  when  Rahero  was  forth,  he  paused  and 

hearkened,  and  heard 
The  gull  jest  in  the  house  and  the  women  laugh 

at  his  word;  I2° 

And  stealthily  crossed  to  the  side  of  the  way  to 

the  shady  place 
Where  the  basket  hung  on  a  mango;  and  craft 

transfigured  his  face. 
Deftly  he  opened  the  basket,  and  took  of  the  fat 

of  the  fish, 


260  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

The  cut  of  kings  and  chieftains,  enough  for  a 

goodly  dish. 

This  he  wrapped  in  a  leaf,  set  on  the  fire  to  cook 
And  buried ;  and  next  the  marred  remains  of  the 

tribute  he  took, 
And  doubled  and  packed  them  well,  and  covered 

the  basket  close 
— "There  is  a  buffet,  my  king,"  quoth  he,  "and 

a  nauseous  dose  !"- 
And  hung  the  basket  again  in  the  shade,  in  a 

cloud  of  flies 
— "And  there  is  a  sauce  to  your  dinner,  king 

of  the  crafty  eyes!"  '3<> 


Soon  as  the  oven  was  open,  the  fish  smelt  ex- 
cellent good. 

In  the  shade,  by  the  house  of  Rahero,  down  they 
sat  to  their  food, 

And  cleared  the  leaves8  in  silence,  or  uttered  a 
jest  and  laughed, 

And  raising  the  cocoanut  bowls,  buried  their 
faces  and  quaffed. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITi.  261 

But  chiefly  in  silence  they  ate ;  and  soon  as  the 
meal  was  done, 

Rahero  feigned  to  remember  and  measured  the 
hour  by  the  sun, 

And  "Tamatea,"  quoth  he,  "it  is  time  to  be  jog- 
ging, my  lad." 

So  Tamatea  arose,  doing  ever  the  thing  he  was 

bade, 
And  carelessly  shouldered  the  basket,  and  kindly 

saluted  his  host ; 
And  again  the  way  of  his  going  was  round  by 

the  roaring  coast.  **° 

Long  he  went;  and  at  length  was  aware  of  a 

pleasant  green, 
And  the  stems  and  shadows  of  palms,  and  roofs 

of  lodges  between. 
There  sate,  in  the  door  of  his  palace,  the  king 

on  a  kingly  seat, 
And  aitos  stood  armed  around,  and  the  yottowas7 

sat  at  his  feet. 
But  fear  was  a  worm  in  his  heart :  fear  darted 

his  eyes; 


262  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

And  he  probed  men's  faces  for  treasons  and  pon- 
dered their  speech  for  lies. 

To  him  came  Tamatea,  the  basket  slung  in  his 
hand, 

And  paid  him  the  due  obeisance  standing  as  vas- 
sals stand. 

In  silence  hearkened  the  king,  and  closed  the 
eyes  in  his  face, 

Harbouring  odious  thoughts  and  the  baseless 
fears  of  the  base;  TSO 

In  silence  accepted  the  gift  and  sent  the  giver 
away. 

So  Tamatea  departed,  turning  his  back  on  the 
day. 

And  lo !  as  the  king  sat  brooding,  a  rumour  rose 
in  the  crowd ; 

The  yottowas  nudged  and  whispered,  the  com- 
mons murmured  aloud; 

Tittering  fell  upon  all  at  sight  of  the  impudent 
thing, 

At  the  sight  of  a  gift  unroyal  flung  in  the  face 
of  a  king. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  263 

And  the  face  of  the  king  turned  white  and  red 

with  anger  and  shame 
In  their  midst;  and  the  heart  in  his  body  was 

water  and  then  was  flame; 
Till  of  a  sudden,  turning,  he  gripped  an  aito 

hard, 
A  youth  that  stood  with  his  omare,8  one  of  the 

daily  guard,  l6° 

And  spat  in  her  ear  a  command,  and  pointed  and 

uttered  a  name, 
And  hid  in  the  shade  of  the  house  his  impotent 

anger  and  shame. 

Now  Tamatea  the  fool  was  far  on  the  homeward 

way. 
The  rising  night  in  his  face,  behind  him  the  dying 

day. 
Rahero  saw  him  go  by,  and  the  heart  of  Rahero 

was  glad, 
Devising  shame  to  the  king  and  nowise  harm  to 

the  lad; 
And  all  that  dwelt  by  the  way  saw  and  saluted 

him  well, 


264  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

For  he  had  the  face  of  a  friend  and  the  news  of 

the  town  to  tell; 
And  pleased  with  the  notice  of  folk,  and  pleased 

that  his  journey  was  done, 
Tamatea  drew  homeward,  turning  his  back  to 

the  sun.  170 

And  now  was  the  hour  of  the  bath  in  Taiarapu : 

far  and  near 
The  lovely  laughter  of  bathers  rose  and  delighted 

his  ear. 

Night  massed  in  the  valleys  ;  the  sun  on  the  moun- 
tain coast 
Struck,  end-long ;  and  above  the  clouds  embattled 

their  host. 
And  glowed  and  gloomed  on  the  heights ;  and  the 

heads  of  the  palms  were  gems, 
And  far  to  the  rising  eve  extended  the  shade  of 

their  stems ; 
And  the  shadow  of  Tamatea  hovered  already  at 

home. 

And  sudden  the  sound  of  one  coming  and  run- 
ning light  as  the  foam 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  265 

Struck  on  his  ear ;  and  he  turned,  and  lo !  a  man 

on  his  track, 
Girded  and  armed  with  an  omare,  following  hard 

at  his  back.  l8° 

At  a  bound  the  man  was  upon  him; — and,  or 

ever  a  word  was  said, 
The  loaded  end  of  the  omare  fell  and  laid  him 

dead. 

II.       THE  VENGING  OF  TAMATEA. 

Thus  was  Rahero's  treason ;  thus  and  no  further 

it  sped. 
The  king  sat  safe  in  his  place  and  a  kindly  fool 

was  dead. 

But  the  mother  of  Tamatea  arose  with  death  in 

her  eyes. 
All  night  long,  and  the  next,  Taiarapu  rang  with 

her  cries. 
As  when  a  babe  in  the  wood  turns  with  a  chill 

of  doubt 
And  perceives  nor  home,   nor   friends,   for  the 

trees  have  closed  her  about, 


266  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

The  mountain  rings  and  her  breast  is  torn  with 

the  voice  of  despair : 

So  the  lion-like  woman  idly  wearied  the  air     190 
For  awhile,  and  pierced  men's  hearing  in  vain, 

and  wounded  their  hearts. 

But  as  when  the  weather  changes  at  sea,  in  dan- 
gerous parts, 
And  sudden  the  hurricane  wrack  unrolls  up  the 

front  of  the  sky, 
At  once  the  ship  lies  idle,  the  sails  hang  silent 

on  high, 
The  breath  of  the  wind  that  blew  is  blown  out 

like  the  flame  of  a  lamp, 
And  the  silent  armies  of  death  draw  near  with 

inaudible  tramp: 
So  sudden,  the  voice  of  her  weeping  ceased ;  in 

silence  she  rose 
And  passed   from  the  house  of  her  sorrow,  a 

woman  clothed  with  repose, 
Carrying  death  in  her  breast  and  sharpening  death 

with  her  hand. 

Hither  she  went  and  thither  in  all  the  coasts  of 
the  land.  .         200 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  267 

They  tell  that  she  feared  not  to  slumber  alone, 

in  the  dead  of  night, 

In  accursed  places;  beheld,  unblenched,  the  rib- 
bon of  light9 
Spin  from  temple  to  temple ;  guided  the  perilous 

skiff, 
Abhorred  not  the  paths  of  the  mountain  and  trod 

the  verge  of  the  cliff; 
From  end.  to  end  of  the  island,  thought  not  the 

distance  long, 
But  forth  from  king  to  king  carried  the  tale  of 

her  wrong. 
To  king  after  king,  as  they  sat  in  the  "palace 

door,  she  came, 
Claiming  kinship,  declaiming  verses,  naming  her 

name 
And  the  names  of  all  of  her  fathers;  and  still, 

with  a  heart  on  the  rack, 
Jested  to  capture  a  hearing  and  laughed  when 

they  jested  back;  210 

So  would  deceive  them  awhile,  and  change  and 

return  in  a  breath, 
And  on  all  the  men  of  Vaiau  imprecate  instant 

death ; 


268  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

And  tempt  her  kings — for  Vaiau  was  a  rich  and 

prosperous  land, 

And  flatter — for  who  would  attempt  it  but  war- 
riors mighty  of  hand  ? 
And  change  in  a  breath  again  and  rise  in  a  strain 

of  song, 
Invoking  the  beaten  drums,  beholding  the  fall  of 

the  strong, 
Calling  the  fowls  of  the  air  to  come  and  feast 

on  the  dead. 
And  they  held  the  chin  in  silence,  and  heard  her, 

and  shook  the  head ; 
For  they  knew  the  men  of  Taiarapu  famous  in 

battle  and  feast, 
Marvellous  eaters  and  smiters :  the  men  of  Vaiau 

not  least.  22° 

To  the  land  of  the  Namunu-ura,10  to  Paea,  at 

length  she  came, 
To  men  who  were  foes  to  the  Tevas  and  hated 

their  race  and  name. 
There   was   she   well  received,  and  spoke   with 

Hiopa  the  king.11 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  269 

And  Hiopa  listened,  and  weighed,  and  wisely 
considered  the  thing. 

"Here  in  the  back  of  the  isle  we  dwell  in  a  shel- 
tered place/' 

Quoth  he  to  the  woman,  "in  quiet,  a  weak  and 
peaceable  race. 

But  far  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind  lofty  Taiarapu 
lies ; 

Strong  blows  the  wind  of  the  trade  on  its  sea- 
ward face,  and  cries 

Aloud  in  the  top  of  arduous  mountains,  and  utters 
its  song 

In  green  continuous  forests.  Strong  is  the  wind, 
and  strong  23° 

And  fruitful  and  hardy  the  race,  famous  in  bat- 
tle and  feast, 

Marvellous  eaters  and  smiters :  the  men  of  Vaiau 
not  least. 

Now  hearken  to  me,  my  daughter,  and  hear  a 
word  of  the  wise: 

How  a  strength  goes  linked  with  a  weakness, 
two  by  two,  like  the  eyes. 

They  can  wield  the  omare  well  and  cast  the  jave- 
lin far; 


270  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

Yet  are  they  greedy  and  weak  as  the  swine  and 
the  children  are. 

Plant  we,  then,  here  at  Paea,  a  garden  of  excel- 
lent fruits ; 

Plant  we  bananas  and  kava,  and  taro,  the  king  of 
roots; 

Let  the  pigs  in  Paea  be  tapu12  and  no  man  fish 
for  a  year ; 

And  of  all  the  meat  in  Tahiti  gather  we  three- 
fold here.  240 

So  shall  the  fame  of  our  plenty  fill  the  island, 
and  so, 

At  last,  on  the  tongue  of  rumour,  go  where  we 
wish  it  to  go. 

Then  shall  the  pigs  of  Taiarapu  raise  their  snouts 
in  the  air; 

But  we  sit  quiet  and  wait,  as  the  fowler  sits  by 
the  snare,  , 

And  tranquilly  fold  our  hands,  till  the  pigs  come 
nosing  the  food : 

But  meanwhile  build  us  a  house  of  Trotea,  the 
stubborn  wood, 


A  LEGLLXf)  01--  T.-IH1TI.  271 

Bind  it  with  incombustible  thongs,  set  a  roof  to 

the  room, 
Too  strong  for  the  hands  of  man  to  dissever  or 

fire  to'  consume ; 
And  there,  when  the  pigs  come  trotting,  there 

shall  the  feast  be  spread. 
There  shall  the  eye  of  the  morn  enlighten  the 

f casters  dead.  2so 

So  be  it  done ;  for  I  have  a  heart  that  pities  your 

state, 
And  Nateva  and  Namunu-ura  are  fire  and  water 

for  hate." 

All  was  done  as  he  said,  and  the  gardens  pros- 
pered ;  and  now 

The  fame  of  their  plenty  went  out,  and  word  of  it 
came  to  Vaiau. 

For  the  men  of  Namunu-ura  sailed,  to  the  win- 
ward  far, 

Lay  in  the  offing  by  south  where  the  towns  of  the 
'Tevas  are, 

And  cast  overboard  of  their  plenty ;  and  lo !  at  the 
Tevas'  feet 


272  THE  SONG   OF   RAHERO: 

The  surf  on  all  of  the  beaches  tumbled  treasures 

of  meat. 

In  the  salt  of  the  sea,  a  harvest  tossed  with  the  re- 
fluent foam  ; 
And  the  children  gleaned  it  in  playing,  and  ate 

and  carried  it  home  ;  2(t° 

And  the  elders  stared  and  debated,  and  wondered 

and  passed  the  jest, 
But  whenever  a  guest  came  by  eagerly  questioned 

the  guest ; 
And  little  by  little,  from  one  another,  the  word 

went  round : 
"In  all  the  borders  of  Paea  the  victual  rots  on  the 

ground, 
And  swine  are  plenty  as  rats.     And  row,  when 

they  fare  to  the  sea, 
The  men  of  Namunu-ura  glean  from  under  the 

tree 
And  load  the  canoe  to  the  gunwale  with  all  that  is 

toothsome  to  eat ; 
And  all  day  long  on  the  sea  the  jaws  are  crushing 

the  meat. 
The  steersman  eats  at  the  helm,  the  rowers  munch 

at  the  oar, 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  273 

And  at  length,  when  their  bellies  are  full,  over- 
board with  the  store !"  270 

Now  was  the  word  made  true,  and  soon  as  the  bait 
was  bare, 

All  the  pigs  of  Taiarapu  raised  their  snouts  in 
the  air. 

Songs  were  recited,  and  kinship  was  counted,  and 
tales  were  told 

How  war  had  severed  of  late  but  peace  had  ce- 
mented of  old 

The  clans  of  the  island.  "To  war,"  said  they, 
"now  set  we  and  end, 

And  hie  to  the  Namunu-ura  even  as  a  friend  to  a 
friend." 


So  judged,  and  a  clay  was  named ;  and  soon  as  the 

morning  broke, 
Canoes  were  thrust  in  the  seat  and  the  houses 

emptied  of  folk. 
Strong  blew  the  wind  of  the  south,  the  wind  that 

gathers  the  clan ; 
Along  all  the  line  of  the  reef  the  clamorous  surges 

ran ;  28° 


274  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

And  the  clouds  were  piled  on  the  top  of  the  island 
mountain-high, 

A  mountain  throned  on  a  mountain.  The  fleet  of 
canoes  swept  by 

In  the  midst,  on  the  green  lagoon,  with  a  crew  re- 
leased from  care. 

Sailing  an  even  water,  breathing  a  summer  air. 

Cheered  by  a  cloudless  sun ;  and  ever  to  left  and 
right, 

Bursting  surge  on  the  reef,  drenching  storms  on 
the  height. 

So  the  folk  of  Vaiau  sailed  and  wefe  glad  all  day, 

Coasting  the  palm-tree  cape  and  crossing  the  pop- 
ulous bay 

By  all  the  towns  of  the  Tevas ;  and  still  as  they 
bowled  along, 

Boat  would  answer  to  boat  with  jest  and  laughter 
and  song,  29« 

And  the  people  of  all  the  towns  trooped  to  the 
sides  of  the  sea 

And  gazed  from  under  the  hand  or  sprang  aloft 
on  the  tree, 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  275 

Hailing  and  cheering.    Time  failed  them  for  more 

to  do; 
The  holiday  village  careened  to  the  wind,  and  wa3 

gone  from  view 
Swift  as  a  passing  bird ;  and  ever  as  onward  it 

bore, 
Like  the  cry  of  the  passing  bird,  bequeathed  its 

song  to  the  shore — 
Desirable  laughter  of  maids  and  the  cry  of  delight 

of  the  child. 
And  the  gazer,  left  behind,  stared  at  the  wake  and 

smiled. 


By  all  the  towns  of  Tevas  they  went,  and  Papara 

last, 
The  home  of  the  chief,  the  place  of  muster  in  war ; 

and  passed  300 

The  march  of  the  lands  of  the  clan,  to  the  lands 

of  an  alien  folk. 
And  there,  from  the  dusk  of  the  shoreside  palms, 

a  column  of  smoke 

Mounted  and  wavered  and  died  in  the  gold  of  the 
i       setting  sun, 


276  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

"Paea!"  they  cried.     "It  is  Paea."    And  so  was 
the  voyage  done. 

In  the  early  fall  of  the  night,  Hiopa  came  to  the 

shore, 
And  beheld  and  counted  the  comers,  and  lo.  they 

were  forty  score : 
The  pelting  feet  of  the  babes  thai  ran  already 

and  played, 
The  clean-lipped  smile  of  the  boy,  the  slender 

breasts  of  the  maid, 
And  mighty  limbs  of  women,  stalwart  mothers  of 

men. 
The  sires  stood  forth  unabashed ;  but  a  little  back 

from  his  ken  310 

Gustered  the  scarcely  nubile,  the  lads  and  maids, 

in  a  ring, 
Fain  of  each  other,  afraid  of  themselves,  aware  of 

the  king 
And  aping  behaviour,  but  clinging  together  with 

hands  and  eyes, 

With  looks  that  were  kind  like  kisses,  and  laugh- 
ter tender  as  sighs. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  277 

There,  too,  the  grandsire  stood,  raising  his  silver 
crest, 

And  the  impotent  hands  of  a  suckling  groped  in 
his  barren  breast. 

The  childhood  of  love,  the  pair  well  married,  the 
innocent  brood, 

The  tale  of  the  generations  repeated  and  ever  re- 
newed— 

Hiopa  beheld  them  together,  all  the  ages  of  man. 

And  a  moment  shook  in  his  purpose.  3«> 


But  these  were  the  foes  of  his  clan, 
And  he  trod  upon  pity,  and  came,  and  civilly 

greeted  the  king. 
And  gravely  entreated  Rahero ;  and  for  all  that 

could  fight  or  sing, 
And  claimed    a  name  in  the  land,  had  fitting 

phrases  of  praise ; 
But  with  all  who  were  well-descended  he  spoke  of 

the  ancient  days. 
And  '"Tis  true,"  said  he,  "that  in  Paea  the  victual 

rots  on  the  ground; 


278  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

But,   friends,  your  number  is  many:  and  pigs 

must  be  hunted  and  found, 
And  the  lads  troop  to  the  mountains  to  bring  the 

feis  down, 
And  around  the  bowls  of  the  kava  cluster  the 

maids  of  the  town. 
So,  for  to-night,  sleep  here;  but  king,  common. 

and  priest  330 

To-morrow,  in  order  due,  shall  sit  with  me  in  the 

feast." 
Sleepless  the  live-long  night,  Hiopa's  followers 

toiled. 
The  pigs  screamed  and  were  slaughtered;   the 

spars  of  the  guest-house  oiled. 
The  leaves  spread  on  the  floor.  In  many  a  moun- 
tain glen 
The  moon  drew  shadbws  of  trees  on  the  naked 

bodies  of  men 
Plucking  and  bearing  fruits ;  and  in  all  the  bounds 

of  the  town 
Red  glowed  cocoanut  fires,  and  were  buried  and 

trodden  down. 
Thus  did  seven  of  the  yottowas  toil  with  their  tale 

of  the  clan, 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  279 

But  the  eighth  wrought  with  his  lads,  hid  from 

the  sight  of  man. 
In  the  deeps  of  the  woods  they  laboured,  piling 

the  fuel  high  340 

In  faggots,  the  load  of  a  man,  fuel  seasoned  and 

dry, 
Thirsty  to  seize  upon  fire  and  apt  to  blurt  into 

flame. 


And  now  was  the  day  of  the  feast.    The  forests, 

as  morning  came, 
Tossed  in  the  wind,  and  the  peaks  quaked  in  the 

blaze  of  the  day 

And  the  cocoanuts  showered  on  the  ground,  re- 
bounding and  rolling  away : 
A  glorious  morn  for  a  feast,  a  famous  wind  for  a 

fire. 
To  the  'hall  of  feasting  Hiopa  led  them,  mother 

and  sire 
And  maid  and  babe  in  a  tale,  the  whole  of  the 

holiday  throng. 
Smiling  the  came,  garlanded  green,  not  dreaming 

of  wrong ; 


280  THE  SONG  OP  RAHERO: 

And  for  every  three,  a  pig,  tenderly  cooked  in  the 
ground,  350 

Waited;  and  fei,  the  staff  of  life,  heaped  in  a 
mound 

For  each  where  he  sat ;  —  for  each,  bananas 
roasted  and  raw 

Piled  with  a  bountiful  hand,  as  for  horses  hay 
and  straw 

Are  stacked  in  a  stable ;  and  fish,  the  food  of  de- 
sire,13 

And  plentiful  vessels  of  sauce,  and  breadfruit 
gilt  in  the  fire; — 

And  kava  was  common  as  water.  Feasts  have 
there  been  ere  now, 

And  many,  but  never  a  feast  like  that  of  the  folk 
of  Vaiau. 


All  day  long  they  ate  with  the  resolute  greed  of 

brutes, 
And  turned  from  the  pigs  to  the  fish,  and  again 

from  the  fish  to  the  fruits, 
And  emptied  the  vessels  of  sauce,  and  drank  of 

the  kava  deep;  360 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  281 

Till    the   young   lay   stupid   as   stones,   and  the 

strongest  nodded  to  sleep. 
Sleep  that  was  mighty  as  death  and  blind  as  a 

moonless  night 
Tethered  them  hand  and  foot ;  and  their  souls 

were  drowned,  and  the  light 
Was  cloaked  from  their  eyes.    Senseless  together, 

the  old  and  the  young, 

The  fighter  deadly  to  smite  and  the  prater  cun- 
ning of  tongue, 
The  woman  wedded  and  fruitful,  inured  to  the 

pangs  of  birth, 
And  the  maid  that  knew  not  of  kisses,  blindly 

sprawled  on  the  earth. 

From  the  hall  Hiopa  the  king  and  his  chiefs  came 

stealthily  forth. 
Already  the  sun  hung  low  and  enlightened  the 

peaks  of  the  north  ; 
But  the  wind  was  stubborn  to  die  and  blew  as  it 

blows  at  morn,  37° 

Showering  the  nuts  in  the  dusk,  and  e'en  as  a 

banner  is  torn, 


282  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

High  on  the  peaks  of  the  island,  shattered  the 

mountain  cloud. 
And  now  at  once,  at  a  signal,  a  silent,  emulous 

crowd 
Set  hands  to  the  work  of  death,  hurrying  to  and 

fro, 
Like  ants,  to  furnish  the  faggots,  building  them 

broad  and  low, 
And  piling  them  high  and  higher  around  the  walls 

of  the  hall. 
Silence  persisted  within,  for  sleep  lay  heavy  on 

all. 

But  the  mother  of  Tamatea  stood  at  Hiopa's  side, 
And  shook  for  terror  and  joy  like  a  girl  that  is  a 

bride. 

Night  fell  on  the  toilers,  and  first  Hiopa  the  wise 
Made  the  round  of  the  house,  visiting  all  with  his 

eyes ;  380 

And  all  was  piled  to  the  eaves,  and  fuel  blockaded 

the  door ; 
And  within,  in  the  house  beleaguered,  slumbered 

the  forty  score. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  283 

Then  was  an  aito  despatched  and  came  with  fire 
in  his  hand, 

And  Hiopa  took  it. — "Within,"  said  he,  "is  the 
life  of  a  land  ! 

And  behold !  I  breathe  on  the  coal,  I  breathe  on 
the  dales  of  the  east, 

And  silence  falls  on  forest  and  shore ;  the  voice  of 
the  feast 

Is  quenched,  and  the  smoke  of  cooking;  the  roof- 
tree  decays  and  falls 

On  the  empty  lodge,  and  the  winds  subvert  de- 
serted walls." 


Therewithal,  to  the  fuel,  he  laid  the  glowing  coal ; 
And  the  redness  ran  in  the  mass  and  burrowed 

within  like  a  mole,  390 

And  copious  smoke  was  conceived.    But,  as  when 

a  dam  is  to  burst, 
The  water  lips  it  and  crosses  in  silver  trickles  at 

first, 
And  then,  of  a  sudden,  whelms  and  bears  it  away 

forthright : 


284  THE  SONG   OF   RAHERO: 

So  now,  in  a  moment,  the  flame  sprang  and  tow- 
ered in  the  night, 

And  wrestled  and  roared  in  the  wind,  and  high 
over  house  and  tree, 

Stood,  like  a  streaming  torch,  enlightening  land 
and  sea. 


But   the   mother  of   Tamatea  threw    her   arms 

abroad, 

"Pyre  of  my  son,''  she  shouted,  "debited  ven- 
geance of  God, 
Late,   late,   I   behold  you,  yet  I   behold  you  at 

last,  400 

And  glory,  beholding !    For  now  are  the  days  of 

my  agony  past, 
The  lust  that  famished  my  soul  now  eats  and 

drinks  its  desire, 
And  they  that  encompassed  my  son  shrivel  alive 

in  the  fire. 
Tenfold  precious  the  vengeance  that  comes  after 

lingering  years ! 
Ye  quenched  the  voice  of  my  singer? — hark,  in 

your  dying  ears, 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  285 

The  song  of  the  conflagration!     Ye  left  me  a 

widow  alone? 
— Behold,  the  whole  of  your  race  consumes,  sinew 

and  bone 
And  torturing  flesh  together:  man,  mother,  and 

maid 
Heaped1  in  a  common    shambles ;  and    already, 

borne  by  the  trade, 
The  smoke  of  your  dissolution  darkens  the  stars 

of  night."  4io 

Thus  she  spoke,  and  her  stature  grew  in  the  peo- 
ple's sight. 

III.       RAHERO. 

Rahero  was  there  in  the  hall,  asleep;  beside  him 

his  wife, 
Comely,  a  mirthful  woman,  one  that  delighted  in 

life; 
And  a  girl  that  was  ripe  for  marriage,  shy  and 

sly  as  a  mouse ; 
And  a  boy,  a  climber  of  trees :  all  the  hopes  of  his 

house. 


286  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

Unwary,  with  open  hands,  he  slept  in  the  midst 
of  his  folk, 

And  dreamed  that  he  heard  a  voice  crying  with- 
out, and  awoke, 

Leaping  blindly  afoot  like  one  from  a  dream  that 
he  fears. 

A  hellish  glow  and  clouds  were  about  him; —  it 
roared  in  his  ears 

Like  the  sound  of  the  cataract  fall  that  plunges 
sudden  and  steep ;  420 

And  Rahero  swayed  as  he  stood,  and  his  reason 
was  still  asleep. 

Now  the  flame  struck  hard  on  the  house,  wind- 
wielded,  a  fracturing  blow, 

And  the  end  of  the  roof  was  burst  and  fell  on  the 
sleepers  below ; 

And  the  loftly  hall,  and  the  feast,  and  the  pros- 
trate bodies  of  folk, 

Shone  red  in  his  eyes  a  moment,  and  then  were 
swallowed  of  smoke. 

In  the  mind  of  Rahero  clearness  came;  and  he 
opened  his  throat ; 

And  as  when  a  squall  comes  sudden,  the  strain- 
ing sail  of  a  boat 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  287 

Thunders  aloud  and  bursts,  so  thundered   the 
voice  of  the  man. 

— "The   wind  and  the  rain!" — he  shouted,  the 
/ 

mustering  word  of  the  clan,14 
And  "Up!"  and  "To  arms,  men  of  Vaiau!"    But 

silence  replied,  430 

Or  only  the  voice  of  the  gusts  of  the  fire,  and 

nothing  beside. 

Rahero   stooped  and   groped.     He  handled  his 

womankind, 
But  the   fumes  of  the  fire   and  the  kava  had 

quenched  the  life  of  their  mind, 
And  they  lay  like  pillars  prone ;  and  his  hand  en- 
countered the  boy, 
And  there  sprang  in  the  gloom  of  his  soul  a  su6- 

den  lightning  of  joy. 
"Him  can  I  save !"  he  thought,  "if  I  were  speedy 

enough." 
And  he  loosened  the  cloth  from  his  loins,  and 

swaddled  the  child  in  the  stuff ; 
And  about  the  strength  of  his  neck  he  knotted 

the  burden  well. 


288  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

There  where  the  roof  had  fallen,  it  roared  like 
the  mouth  of  hell. 

Thither  Rahero  went,  stumbling  on  senseless 
folk,  440 

And  grappled  a  post  of  the  house,  and  began  to 
climb  in  the  smoke: 

The  last  alive  of  Vaiau :  and  the  son  borne  by  the 
sire. 

The  post  glowed  in  the  grain  with  ulcers  of  eating 
fire, 

And  the  fire  bit  to  the  blood  and  mangled  his 
hands  and  thighs ; 

And  the  fumes  sang  in  his  head  like  wine  and 
stung  in  his  eyes ; 

And  still  he  climbed,  and  came  to  the  top,  the 
place  of  proof, 

And  thrust  a  hand  through  the  flame  and  clam- 
bered to  the  roof. 

But  even  as  he  did  so,  the  wind,  in  a  garment  of 
flames  and  pain, 

Wrapped  him  from  head  to  heel ;  and  the  waist- 
cloth  parted  in  twain ; 

And  the  living  fruit  of  his  loins  dropped  in  the 
fire  below.  45° 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  289 

About  the  blazing  feast-house  clustered  the  eyes 
of  the  foe, 

Watching,  hand  upon  weapon,  lest  ever  a  soul 
should  flee, 

Shading  the  brow  from  the  glare,  straining  the 
neck  to  see. 

Only,  to  leeward,  the  flames  in  the  wind  swept 
far  and  wide, 

And  the  forest  sputtered  on  fire ;  and  there  might 
no  man  abide. 

Thither  Rahero  crept,  and  dropped  from  the  burn- 
ing eaves, 

And  crouching  low  to  the  ground,  in  a  treble 
covert  of  leaves 

And  fire  and  volleying  smoke,  ran  for  the  life  of 
his  soul 

Unseen ;  and  behind  him,  under  a  furnace  of  ar- 
dent coal, 

Cairned  with  a  wonder  of  flame,  and  blotting 
the  night  with  smoke,  460 

Blazed  and  were  smelted  together  the  bones  of  all 
his  folk. 


2QO  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

He  fled  unguided  at  first ;  but  hearing  the  breakers 

roar, 
Thitherward  shaped  his  way,  and  came  at  length 

to  the  shore. 
Sound-limbed  he  was:  dry-eyed;    but  smarted  in 

every  part ; 
And  the  mighty  cage  of  his  ribs  heaved  on  his 

straining  heart 
With  sorrow  and  rage.    And  "Fools!"  he  cried, 

"fools  of  Vaiau, 
Heads  of  swine — gluttons — Alas !  and  where  are 

they  now? 
Those  that  I  played  with,  those  that  nursed  me, 

those  that  I  nursed? 
God,  and  I  outliving  them!    I,  the  least  and  the 

worst — 
I,  that  though  myself  crafty,  snared  by  this  herd 

of  swine,  470 

In  th'e  tortures  of  hell  and  desoiate,  stripped  of 

all  that  was  mine : 
All !  —  my  friends  and  my  fathers  —  the  silver 

heads  of  yore 
That  trooped  to  the  council,  the  children  that  ran 

to  the  open  door 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  291 

Crying    with    innocent    voices    and    clasping    a 

father's  knees ! 
And  mine,  my  wife — my  daughter — my  sturdy 

climber  of  trees, 
Ah,  never  to  climb  again!" 

Thus  in  the  dusk  of  the  night, 
(For  clouds   rolled  in  the   sky  and  the  moon 

was   swallowed   from  sight,) 
Pacing  and  gnawing  his  fists,  Rahero  raged  by 

the  shore. 
Vengeance:  that  must  be  his.     But  much  was 

to  do  before ;  480 

And  first  a  single  life  to  be  snatched  from  a 

deadly  place, 
A  life,  the  root  of  revenge,  surviving  plant  of 

the  race: 
And  next  the  race  to  be  raised  anew,  and  the 

lands  of  the  clan 

Repeopled.    So  Rahero  designed,  a  prudent  man 
Even  in  wrath,  and  turned  for  the  means  of 

revenge  and  escape : 
A  boat  to  be  seized  by  stealth,  a  wife  to  be 

taken  by  rape. 


292  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

Still  was  the  dark  lagoon;  beyond  on  the  coral 

wall, 
He    saw    the    breakers    shine,    he  heard  them 

bellow  and  fall. 
Alone,  on  the  top  of  the  reef,  a  man  with  a 

flaming  brand 
Walked,     gazing    and   pausing,     a     fish-spear 

poised     in    his    hand.  490 

The  foam  boiled  to  his  calf  when  the  mightier 

breakers  came, 
And  the  torch  shed  in  the  wind  scattering  tufts 

of  flame. 
Afar  on  the  dark  lagoon  a  canoe  lay  idly  at 

wait: 

A   figure   dimly   guiding   it:   surely   the   fisher- 
man's mate. 
Rahero  saw   and   he   smiled.     He   straightened 

his  mighty  thews : 
Naked,   with     never   a   weapon,   and      covered 

with  scorch  and  bruise, 
He  straightened  his  arms,  he  rilled  the  void  of 

his  body  with  breath, 
And,     strong  as     the     wind  in  his     manhood, 

doomed  the  fisher  to  death. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  293 

Silent  he  entered  the  water,  and  silently  swam, 

and  came 
There  where  the  fisher  walked,  holding  on  high 

the  flame.  500 

Loud    on  the    pier    of    the    reef    volleyed    the 

breach  of  the  sea ; 
And  hard  at  the  back     of  the     man     Rahero 

crept  to  his  knee 
On  the  coral,  and  suddenly  sprang  and  seized 

him,  the  elder  hand 
Clutching  the    joint    of    his    throat,    the    other 

snatching  the  brand 
Ere  it  had  time  to  fall,  and  holding  it  steady  and 

high. 
Strong  was  the  fisher,  brave,  and  swift  of  mind 

and  of  eye — 
Strongly   he  threw  in  the  clutch;  but   Rahero 

resisted  the  strain, 
And  jerked,  and  the  spine  of  life  snapped  with 

a  crack  in  twain, 
And  the  man    came    slack    in    his    hands    and 

tumbled  a  lump  at  his  feet. 


294  THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO: 

One  moment:  and  there,  on  the  reef,  where  the 

breakers  whitened  and  beat*  510 

Rahero    was    standing    alone,     glowing     and 

scorched  and  bare, 
A  victor  unknown  of  any,  raising  the  torch  in 

the  air. 
But  once  he  drank  of  his  breath,  and  instantly 

set  him  to  fish 
Like  a  man  intent  upon   supper  at  home  and 

a  savoury  dish. 
For  what  should  the  woman  have  seen?    A  man 

with  a  torch — and  then 
A  moment's  blur  of  the  eyes: — and  a  man  with  a 

torch  again. 
And  the  torch  had  scarcely  been  shaken.     "Ah, 

surely,"  Rahero  said, 
"She  will  deem  it  a  trick  of  the  eyes,  a  fancy 

born  in  the  head; 
But  time  must  be  given  the  fool  to  nourish  a 

fool's  belief." 
So  for  a  while,  a  sedulous  fisher,  he  walked  the 

reef,  s^o 

Pausing  at  times  and  gazing,  striking  at  times 

with  the  spear; 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  295 

— Lastly,  uttered  the  call ;  and  even  as  the  boat 

drew  near, 
Like  a  man  that  was  done  with  its  use,  tossed 

the  torch  in  the  sea. 

Lightly  he  leaped  on  the  boat  beside  the  woman ; 

and  she 
Lightly  addressed  him,  and  yielded  the  paddle 

and  place  to  sit ; 
For  now  the  torch  was  extinguished  the  night 

was  black  as  the  pit. 

Rahero  set  him  to  row,  never  a  word  he  spoke, 
And  the  boat  sang  in  the  water,  urged  by  his 

vigorous  stroke. 
— "What  ails  you  ?"  the  woman  asked,  "and  why 

did  you  drop  the  brand  ? 
We  have  only  to  kindle  another  as  soon  as  we 

come  to  land/'  530 

Never  a   word   Rahero   replied,  but  urged   the 

canoe. 
And  a  chill  fell  on  the  woman. — "Atta!  speak! 

is  it  you  ? 
Speak!     Why  are  you   silent?       Why  do  you 

bend  aside? 


296  THE  SONG   OF  R  A  HERO: 

Wherefore  steer  to  the  seaward  ?"  thus  she  panted 

and  cried. 
Never  a  word  from  the  oarsman  foiling  there  in 

the  dark; 
But  right  for  a  gate  of  the  reef  he  silently  headed 

the  bark, 
And  wielding  the  single  paddle  with  passionate 

sweep  on  sweep, 
Drove  her,  the  little  fitted,   forth  on  the  open 

deep. 

And  fear,  there  where  she  sat,  froze  the  woman 

to  stone : 
Not  fear  of  the  crazy  boat  and  the  weltering 

deep  alone;  540 

But  a  keener  fear  of  the  night,  the  dark,  and 

the  ghostly  hour. 
And  the  thing  that  drove  the  canoe  with  more 

than  a  mortal's  power 
And  more  than  a  mortal's  boldness.     For  much 

she  knew  of  the  dead 
That   haunt   and    fish    upon   reefs,   toiling,   like 

men,  for  bread, 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  297 

And  traffic  with  human  fishes,  or  slay  them  and 

take  their  ware, 
Till  the  hour  when  the  star  of  the  dead15  goes 

down,  and  the  morning  air 
Blows,  and  the  cocks  are  singing  on  shore. 

And  surely  she  knew 
The  speechless  thing  at  her  side  belonged  to  the 

grave.18 

It  blew 

All  night  from  the  south ;  all  night,  Rahero  con- 
tended and  kept 

The  prow  to  the  cresting  sea;  and',  silent  as 
though  she  slept,  sso 

The  woman  huddled  and  quaked.  And  now 
was  the  peep  of  day. 

High  and  long  on  their  left  the  mountainous 
island  lay ; 

And  over  the  peaks  of  Taiarapu  arrows  of  sun- 
light struck. 

On  shore  the  birds  were  beginning  to  sing:  the 
ghostly  ruck 

Of  the  buried  had  long  ago  returned  to  the  cov- 
ered grave; 


298  THE  SONG   OF  RAHERO: 

And  here  on  the  sea,  the  woman,  waxing  sud- 
denly brave, 

Turned  her  swiftly  about  and  looked  in  the  face 
of  the  man. 

And  sure  he  was  none  that  she  know,  none  of 
her  country  or  clan : 

A  stranger,  mother-naked,  and  marred  with  the 
marks  of  fire, 

But  comely  and  great  of  stature,  a  man  to  obey 
and  admire.  s6o 


And   Rahero   regarded   her  also,   fixed,  with  a 

frowning  face, 

Judging  the  woman's  fitness  to  mother  a  war- 
like race. 
Broad  of  shoulder,  ample  of  girdle,  long  in  the 

thigh, 
Deep  of  bosom  she  was,  and  bravely  supported 

his  eye. 
"Woman,"  said  he,  "last  night  the  men  of  your 

folk- 
Man,  woman,  and  maid,  smothered  my  race  in 
smoke. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TAHITI.  299 

It  was  done  like  cowards;  and  I,  a  mighty  man 
of  my  hands, 

Escaped,  a  single  life ;  and  now  to  the  empty 

And  smokeless  hearths  of  my  people,  sail,  with 
yourself,  alone. 

Before  your  mother  was  born,  the  die  of  today 
was  thrown  s;o 

And  you  selected: — your  husband,  vainly  striv- 
ing, to  fall 

Broken  between  these  hands : — yourself  to  be 
severed  from  all, 

The  places,  the  people,  you  love — home,  kin- 
dred, and  clan — 

And  to  dwell  in  a  desert  and  bear  the  babes  of  a 
kinless  man." 


NOTES  TO  THE  SONG  OF  RAHfiRO. 

INTRODUCTION. — This  tale,  of  which  I  have  not  con- 
sciously changed  a  single  feature,  I  received  from  tradi- 
tion. It  is  highly  popular  through  all  the  country  of  the 
eight  Tevas,  the  clan  to  which  Rahero  belonged;  and 
particularly  in  Taiarapu,  the  windward  peninsula  of 
Tahiti,  where  he  lived.  I  have  heard  from  end  to  end 
two  versions ;  and  as  many  as  five  different  persons 
have  helped  me  with  details.  There  seems  no  reason 
why  the  tale  should  not  be  true. 

Note  I,  verse  22.  "The  aito,"  quasi  champion,  or 
brave.  One  skilled  in  the  use  of  some  weapon,  who 
wandered  the  country  challenging  distinguished  rivals 
and  taking  part  in  local  quarrels.  It  was  in  the  natural 
course  of  his  advancement  to  be  at  last  employed  by  a 
chief,  or  king;  and  it  would  then  be  a  part  of  his  duties 
to  purvey  the  victim  for  sacrifice.  One  of  the  doomed 
families  was  indicated ;  the  aito  took  his  weapon  and 
went  forth  alone ;  a  little  behind  him  bearers  followed 
with  the  sacrificial  basket.  Sometimes  the  victim  showed 
fight,  sometimes  prevailed ;  more  often,  without  doubt, 
he  fell.  But  whatever  body  was  found,  the  bearers  in- 
differently took  up. 

Note  2,  verses  45  et  seq.  "Pai,"  "Honoura,"  and 
"Aliupu."  Legendary  persons  of  Tahiti,  all  natives  of 
Taiarapu.  Of  the  two  first,  I  have  collected  singular 
although  imperfect  legends,  which  I  hope  soon  to  lay 
before  the  public  in  another  place.  Of  Ahupu,  except  in 

300 


NOTES  TO   THE  SONG  OF  RAHERO.     301 

snatches  of  song,  little  memory  appears  to  linger.  She 
dwelt  at  least  about  Tepari, — "the  sea-cliffs," — the  east- 
ern fastness  of  the  isle ;  walked  by  paths  known  only  to 
herself  upon  the  mountains ;  was  courted  by  dangerous 
suitors  who  came  swimming  from  adjacent  islands,  and 
defended  and  rescued  (as  I  gather)  by  the  loyalty  of 
native  fish.  My  anxiety  to  learn  more  of  "Ahupu 
Vehine"  became  (during  my  stay  in  Taiarapu)  a  cause 
of  some  diversion  to  that  mirthful  people,  the  inhabi- 
tants.i 

Note  3,  verse  80.  "Covered  an  oven."  The  cooking 
fire  is  made  in  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  is  then  buried. 

Note  4,  verse  85.  "Flies."  This  is  perhaps  an  an- 
achronism. Even  speaking  of  to-day  in  Tahiti,  the 
phrase  would  have  to  be  understood  as  referring  mainly 
to  mosquitoes,  and  these  only  in  watered  valleys  with 
close  woods,  such  as  I  suppose  to  form  the  surroundings 
of  Rahero's  homestead.  Quarter  of  a  mile  away,  where 
the  air  moves  freely,  you  shall  look  in  vain  for  one. 

Note  5,  verse  115.  "Hook"  of  mother-of-pearl.  Bright- 
hook  fishing,  and  that  with  the  spear,  appear  to  be  the 
favourite  native  methods. 

Note  6,  verse  133.    "Leaves,"  the  plates  of  Tahiti. 

Note  7,  verse  144.  "Yottowas,"  so  spelt  for  convenience 
of  pronunciation,  quasi  Tacksmen  in  the  Scottish  High- 
lands. The  organization  of  eight  sub-districts  and  eight 
yottowas  to  a  division,  which  was  in  use  (until  yester- 
day) among  the  Tevas,  I  have  attributed  without  au- 
thority to  the  next  clan :  see  verses  341-2. 

Note  8,  verse  160.  "Omare,"  pronounce  as  a  dactyl. 
A  loaded  quarter-staff,  one  of  the  two  favourite  weapons 


302    NOTES   TO    THE  SONG   OF  RAIIERO. 

of  the  Tahitian  brave;  the  javelin,  or  casting  spear,  was 
the  other. 

Note  9,  verse  202.  "The  ribbon  of  light."  Still  to  be 
seen  (and  heard)  spinning  from  one  marae  to  another 
on  Tahiti ;  or  so  I  have  it  upon  evidence  that  would  re- 
joice the  Psychical  Society. 

Note  10,  verse  221.  "Namunu-ura."  The  complete 
name  is  Namunu-ura  te  aropa.  Why  it  should  be  pro- 
nounced Narnunu,  dactyllically,  I  cannot  see,  but  so  I 
have  always  heard  it.  This  was  the  clan  immediately  be- 
yond the  Tevas  on  the  south  coast  of  the  island.  At  the 
date  of  the  tale  the  clan  organization  must  have  been 
very  weak.  There  is  no  particular  mention  of  Tamatea's 
mother  going  to  Papara,  to  the  head  chief  of  her  own 
clan,  which  would  appear  her  natural  recourse.  On  the 
other  hand,  she  seems  to  have  visited  various  lesser 
chiefs  ,among  the  Tevas,  and  these  to  have  excused 
themselves  solely  on  the  danger  of  the  enterprise.  The 
broad  distinction  here  drawn  between  Nateva  and 
Namunu-iira  is  therefore  not  impossibly  anachronistic. 

Note  II,  verse  223.  "Pliopa  the  king."  Hiopa  was 
really  the  name  of  the  king  (chief)  of  Vaiau ;  but  I 
could  never  learn  that  of  the  king  of  Paea — pronounce 
to  rhyme  with  the  Indian  ayah — and  I  gave  the  name 
where  it  was  most  needed.  This  note  much  appear  otiose 
indeed  to  readers  who  have  never  heard  of  either  of 
these  two  gentlemen ;  and  perhaps  there  is  only  one  per- 
son in  the  world  capable  at  once  of  reading  my  verses 
and  spying  the  inaccuracy.  For  him,  for  Mr.  Tati  Sal- 
mon, hereditary  high  chief  of  the  Tevas,  the  note  is 
solely  written :  a  small  attention  from  a  clansman  to 
his  chief. 


NOTES   TO    THE   SOXG   OP  RAIIERO.     303 

Note  12,  verse  239.  "Let  the  pigs  be  tapu."  It  is 
impossible  to  explain  tapu  in  a  note ;  we  have  it  as  an 
English  word,  taboo.  Suffice  it,  that  a  thing  which  was 
tapu  must  not  be  touched,  nor  a  place  that  was  tapu 
visited. 

Note  13,  verse  354.  "Fish,  the  food  of  desire."  There 
is  a  special  word  in  the  Tahitian  language  to  signify 
hungering  after  fish.  I  may  remark  that  here  is  one  of 
my  chief  difficulties  about  the  whole  story.  How  did 
king,  commons,  women,  and  all  come  to  eat  together  at 
this  feast?  But  it  troubled  none  of  my  numerous  au- 
thorities ;  so  there  must  certainly  be  some  natural  ex- 
planation. 

Note  14,  verse  429.    "The  mustering  word  of  the  clan." 

Tcva  te  ua, 
Teva  te  matai! 
Teva  the  wind, 
Teva  the  rain ! 

Note  15,  verse  546.  Note  16,  verse  548.  "The  star  of 
the  dead."  Venus  as  a  morning  star.  I  have  collected 
much  curious  evidence  as  to  this  belief.  The  dead  retain 
their  taste  for  a  fish  diet,  enter  into  copartnery  with 
living  fishers,  and  haunt  the  reef  and  the  lagoon.  The 
conclusion  attributed  to  the  nameless  lady  of  the  legend 
would  be  reached  to-day,  under  the  like  circumstances, 
by  ninety  per  cent  of  Polynesians ;  and  here  I  probably 
understate  by  one-tenth. 


THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE. 


THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE:    MARQUESAN 
MANNERS. 

i.  THE  PRIEST'S  VIGIL. 

IN  all  the  land  of  the  tribe  was  neither  fish  nor 

fruit, 
And  the  deepest  pit  of  popoi  stood  empty  to 

the  foot.1 
The  clans  upon  the  left  and  the  clans  upon  the 

right 
Now  oiled  their  carven  maces  and  scoured  their 

daggers  bright; 
They  gat  them  to  the  thicket,  to  the  deepest  of 

the  shade, 

And  lay  with  sleepless  eyes  in  the  deadly  am- 
buscade. 
And  oft  in  the  starry  even  the  song  of  morning 

rose, 
What  time  the  oven  smoked  in  the  country  of 

their  foes; 


3o8  THE  FEAST   OF  FAMINE: 

For  oft  to  loving  hearts,  and  waiting  ears  and 

sight, 

The  lads  that  went  to  forage  returned  not  with 
the  night.  10 

Now  first  the  children  sickened,  and  then  the 

women  paled 
And  the  great  arms  of  the  warrior  no  more  for 

war  availed. 
Hushed  was  the  deep  drum,  discarded  was  the 

dance ; 
And  those  that  met  the  priest  now  glanced  at 

him  askance. 
The  priest  was  a  man  of  years,  his  eyes  were 

ruby-red,2 
He  neither  feared  the  dark  nor  the  terrors  of 

the  dead, 

He  knew  the  songs  of  races,  the  names  of  an- 
cient date; 
And  the  beard  upon  his  bosom  would  have  bought 

the  chief's  estate. 
He   dwelt   in   a  high-built   lodge,   hard  by  the 

roaring  shore, 
Raised  on  a  noble  terrace  and  with  tikis8  at  the 

door.  20 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  309 

Within  it  was  full  of  riches,  for  he  served  his 
nation  well, 

And  full  of  the  sound  of  breakers,  like  the  hol- 
low of  a  shell. 

For  weeks  he  let  them  perish,  gave  never  a 
helping  sign, 

But  sat  on  his  oiled  platform  to  commune  with 
the  divine, 

But  sat  on  his  high  terrace,  with  the  tikis  by 
his  side, 

And  stared  on  the  blue  ocean,  like  a  parrot, 
ruby-eyed. 


Dawn  as  yellow  as  sulphur  leaped  on  the  mount- 
ain height : 

Ont  on  the  round  of  the  sea  the  gems  of  the 
morning  light, 

Up  from  the  round  of  the  sea  the  streamers  of 
the  sun; — 

But  down  in  the  depths  of  the  valley  the  day 
was  not  begun.  30 

In  the  blue  of  the  woody  twilight  burned  red 
the  cocoa-husk, 


3io  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

And  the  women  and  men  of  the  clan  went  forth 

to  bathe  in  the  dusk. 
A   word   that   began   to   go   round,   a   word,   a 

whisper,  a  start: 
Hope  that  leaped  in  the  bosom,  fear  that  knocked 

on  the  heart: 
"See,  the  priest  is  not  risen — look,  for  his  door 

is  fastf 
He  is  going  to  name  the  victims ;  he  is  going  to 

help  us  at  last." 

Thrice  rose  the  sun  to  noon;  and  ever,  like  one 
of  the  dead, 

The  priest  lay  still  in  his  house  with  the  roar  of 
the  sea  in  his  head ; 

There  was  never  a  foot  on  the  floor,  there  was 
never  a  whisper  of  speech ; 

Only  the  leering  tikis  stared  on  the  blinding 
beach.  40 

Again  were  the  mountains  fired,  again  the  morn- 
ing broke; 

And  all  the  houses  lay  still,  but  the  house  of  the 
priest  awoke. 


MARQUESAN  MANNERS.  311 

Close  in  their  covering  roofs  lay  and  trembled 

the  clan, 
But  the  aged,  red-eyed  priest  ran  forth  like  a 

lunatic  man ; 
And  the  village  panted  to  see  him  in  the  jewels 

of  death  again, 
In  the  silver  beards  of  the  old  and  the  hair  of 

women  slain. 
Frenzy  shook  in  his  limbs,  frenzy  shone  in  his 

eyes, 
And  still  and  again  as  he  ran,  the  valley  rang 

with  his  cries. 
All  day  long  in  the  land,  by  cliff  and  thicket 

and  den, 
He  ran  his  lunatic  rounds,  and  howled  for  the 

flesh  of  men ;  so 

All  day  long  he  ate  not,  nor  ever  drank  of  the 

brook; 
And  all   day  long   in   their  houses  the  people 

listened  and  shook — 
All  day  long  in  their  houses  they  listened  with 

bated  breath, 
And  never  a  soul  went  forth,  for  the  sight  of  the 

priest  was  death. 


3i2  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

Three  were  the  days  of  his  running,  as  the  gods 

appointed  of  yore, 
Two  the  nights  of  his  sleeping  alone  in  the  place 

of  gore: 
The  drunken  slumber  of  frenzy  twice  he  drank 

to  the  lees, 
On  the  sacred  stones  of  the  High-place,  under 

the  sacred  trees; 
With  a  lamp  at  his  ashen  head  he  lay  in  the 

place  of  the  feast. 
And   the   sacred  leaves   of  the  banyan   rustled 

around  the  priest.  6o 

Last,  when  the  stated  even  fell  upon  terrace  and 

tree. 
And  the  shade  of  the  lofty  island  lay  leagues 

away  to  sea, 
And  all  the  valleys  of  verdure  were  heavy  with 

manna  and  musk, 
The  wreck  of  the  red-eyed  priest  came  gasping 

home  in  the  dusk. 
He  reeled  across  the  village,  he  staggered  along 

the  shore. 
And  between   the  leering  tikis    crept    groping 

through  his  door. 


MARQUESAS  MA.\Y.\rER$.  313 

There  went  a  stir  through  the  lodges,  the  voice 
of  speech  awoke ; 

Once  more  from  the  builded  platforms  arose  the 
evening  smoke. 

And  those  who  were  mighty  in  war,  and  those 
renowned  for  an  art 

Sat  in  their  stated  seats  and  talked  of  the  mor- 
row apart.  7° 


II.    THE  LOVERS. 

Hark!  away  in  the  woods — for  the  ears  of  love 
are  sharp — 

Stealthily,  quietly  touched,  the  note  of  the  one- 
stringed  harp.4 

In  the  lighted  house  of  her  father,  why  should 
Taheia  start? 

Taheia  heavy  of  hair,  Taheia  tender  of  heart, 

Taheia  the  well-descended,  a  bountiful  dealer  in 
love, 

Nimble  of  foot  like  the  deer,  and  kind  of  eye 
like  the  dove? 


314  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

Sly  and  shy  as  a  cat,  with  never  a  change  of 
face, 

Taheia  slips  to  the  door,  like  on  that  would 
breathe  a  space ; 

Saunters  and  pauses,  and  looks  at  the  stars,  and 
lists  to  the  seas ; 

Then  sudden  and  swift  as  a  cat,  she  plunges 
under  the  trees.  8o 

Swift  as  a  cat  she  runs,  with  her  garment  gath- 
ered high, 

Leaping,  nimble  of  foot,  running,  certain  of  eye; 

And  ever  to  guide  her  way  over  the  smooth  and 
the  sharp, 

Ever  nearer  and  nearer  the  note  of  the  one- 
stringed  harp ; 

Till  at  length,  in  a  glade  of  the  wood,  with  a 
naked  mountain  above, 

The  sound  of  the  harp  thrown  down,  and  she  in 
the  arms  of  her  love. 

"Rua!" — "Taheia!"  they  cry — ''my  heart,  my 
soul,  and  my  eyes," 

And  clasp  and  sunder  and  kiss,  with  lovely  laugh- 
te-r  and  sighs, 


MARQUESAS  MANNERS.  315 

"Rua!" — "Taheia,  my  love," — "Rua,  star  of  my 

night, 
Clasp  me,  hold  me,  and  love  me,  single  spring  of 

delight."  90 


And  Rua  folded  her  close,  he  folded  her  near 

and  long, 
The  living  knit  to  the  living,  and  sang  the  lover's 

song: 

Night,  night  it  is,  night  upon  the  palms. 
Night,  night  it  is,  the  land  wind  has  blown. 
Starry,  starry  night,  over  deep  and  height; 
Love,  love  in  the  valley,  love  all  alone. 

"Taheia,  heavy  of  hair,  a  foolish  thing  have  we 

done, 
To  bind  what  gods  have  sundered  unkindly  into 

one. 
Why  should  a  lowly  lover  have  touched  Taheia's 

skirt, 
Taheia  the  well-descended,  and  Rua  child  of  the 

dirt?"  I0° 


316  THE   FEAST  OH   FAMINE: 

— "On  high  with  the  haka-ikis  my  father  sits  in 

state. 

Ten  times  fifty  kinsmen  salute  him  in  the  gate ; 
Round  all  his  martial  body,  and  in  bands  across 

his  face, 
The   marks   of  the  tattooer   proclaim   his   lofty 

place. 
I,  too,  in  the  hands  of  the  cunning,  in  the  sacred 

cabin  of  palm/' 
Have  shrunk  like  the  mimosa,  and  bleated  like 

the  lamb ; 
Round  half  my  tender  body,  that  none  shall  clasp 

but  you, 
For  a  crest  and  a  fair  adornment  go  dainty  lines 

of  blue. 

Love,  love,  beloved  Rua,  love  levels  all  degrees. 
And  the  well-tattooed  .Taheia  clings  panting  to 

your  knees."  II0 

•"Taheia,  song  of  the  morning,  how  long  is  the 

longest  love? 

A  cry,  a  clasp  of  the  hands,  a  star  that  falls  from 
above ! 


MARQUESAN  MANNERS.  317 

Ever  at  morn  in  the  blue,  and  at  night  when  all 

is  black, 
Ever   it   skulks   and  trembles   with  the  hunter, 

Death,  on  its  track. 
Hear  me,   Taheia,   death !     For  to-morrow   the 

priest  shall  awake, 
And  the  names  be  named  of  the  victims  to  bleed 

for  the  nation's  sake ; 
And  first  of  the  numbered  many  that  shall  be 

slain  ere  noon, 

Rua  the  child  of  the  dirt,  Rua  the  kinless  loon. 
For  him  shall  the   drum  be  beat,   for  him   be 

raised  the  song, 
For  him  to  the  sacred;  High-place  the  chaunting 

people  throng,  I2° 

For  him  the  oven   smoke  as   for  a   speechless 

beast, 
And  the  sire  of  my  Taheia  come  greedy  to  the 

feast." 
— "Rua  be  silent,  spare  me.     Taheia  closes  her 

ears. 

Pity  my  yearning  heart,  pity  my  girlish  years ! 
Flee  from  the  cruel  hands,  flee  from  the  knife 

and  coal, 


318  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE:   » 

Lie  hid  in  the  deeps  of  the  woods,  Rua,  sire  of 
my  soul !" 


"Whither  to  flee,  Taheia,  whither  in  all  of  the 
land  ? 

The  fires  of  the  bloody  kitchen  are  kindled  on 
every  hand ; 

On  every  hand  in  the  isle  a  hungry  whetting  of 
teeth, 

Eyes  'in  the  trees  above,  arms  in  the  brush  be- 
neath. J30 

Patience  to  lie  in  wait,  cunning  to  follow  the 
sleuth, 

Abroad  the  foes  I  have  fought,  and  at  home  the 
friends  of  my  youth." 

"Love,  love,  beloved  Rua,  love  has  a  clearer  eye, 
Hence  from  the  arms  of  love  you  go  not  forth  to 

die. 
There,  where  the  broken  mountain  drops  sheer 

into  the  glen, 
There  shall  you  find  a  hold   from  the  boldest 

hunter  of  men ; 


MARQUES  AN  MANXERS.  319 

There,  in  the  deep  recess,  where  the  sun  falls 

only  at  noon, 
And  only  once  in  the  night  enters  the  light  of 

the  moon, 
Nor  ever  a  sound  but  of  birds,  or  the  rain  when 

it  falls  with  a  shout ; 
For  death  and  the  fear  of  death  beleaguer  the 

valley  about.  J4o 

Tapu  it  is,  but  the  gods  will  surely  pardon  de- 
spair ; 

Tapu,  but  what  of  that?     If  Rua  can  only  dare. 
Tapu  and  tapu  and  tapu,  I  know  they  are  every 

one  right ; 
But  the  god  of  every  tapu  is  not  always  quick 

to  smite. 
Lie  secret  there,  my  Rua,  in  the  arms  of  awful 

gods, 
Sleep  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  on  the  couch  of 

the  kindly  sods, 
Sleep  and  dream  of  Taheia,  Taheia  will  wake 

for  you ; 
And    whenever   the   land   wind   blows   and   the 

woods  are  heavy  with  dew, 


320  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

Alone  through  the  horror  of  night,6  with  food 

for  the  soul  of  her  love, 
Taheia  the  undissuaded  will  hurry  true  as  the 

dove."  '5° 


"Taheia,  the  pit  of  the  night  crawls  with  treach- 
erous things, 

Spirits  of  ultimate  air  and  the  evil  souls  of 
things ; 

The  souls  of  the  dead,  the  stranglers,  that  perch 
in  the  trees  of  the  wood, 

Waiters  for  all  things  human,  haters  of  evil  and 
good." 

"Rua,  behold  me,  kiss  me,  look  in  my  eyes  and 

read; 
Are  these  the  eyes  of  a  maid  that  would  leave  her 

lover  in  need  ? 
Brave  in  the  eye  of  day,  my  father  ruled  in  the 

fight; 
The  child  of  his  loins,  Taheia,  will  play  the  man 

in  the  night." 


MARQUESAN  .\L  IX. \~ERS.  .UM 

So  it  was  spoken,  and  so  agreed,  and  Taheia 

arose 
And  smiled  in  the  stars  and  was  gone,  swift  as 

the  swallow  goes  ;  l6° 

And  Rua  stood  on  the  hill,  and  sighed,  and  fol- 
lowed her  flight, 
And  there  were  the  lodges  below,  each  with  its 

door  alight ; 
From  folk  that  sat  on  the  terrace  and  drew  out 

the  even  long 
Sudden  Growings  of  laughter,  monotonous  drone 

of  song ; 
The  quiet  passage  of  souls  over  his  head  in  the 

trees  ;T 
And  from  all  around  the  haven  the  crumbling 

thunder  of  seas. 
"Farewell,  my  home,"  said  Rua.     "Farewell,  O 

quiet  seat ! 
To-morrow  in  all  your  valleys  the  drum  of  death 

shall  beat." 


322  THE  FEAST   Ol:   FAMINE: 

III.    THE  FEAST. 

Dawn  as  yellow  as  sulphur  leaped  on  the  naked 

peak, 
And  all  the  village  was  stirring,  for  now  was  the 

priest  to  speak.  170 

Forth  on  his  terrace  he  came,  and  sat  with  the 

chief  in  talk ; 
His  lips  were  blackened  with  fever,  his  cheeks 

were  whiter  than  chalk ; 
Fever  clutched  at  his  hands,  fever  nodded  his 

head, 
But,  quiet  and  steady  and  cruel,  his  eyes  shone 

ruby-red. 
In  the  earliest  rays  of  the  sun  the  chief  rose  up 

content ; 

Braves   were  summoned,   and   drummers ;   mes- 
sengers came  and  went ; 
Braves  ran  to  their  lodges,  weapons  were  snatched 

from  the  wall ; 
The  commons  herded  together,  and  fear  was  over 

them  all. 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  323 

Festival  dresses  they  wore,  but  the  tongue  was 

dry  in  their  mouth, 
And  the  blinking  eyes  in  their  faces  skirted  from 

north  to  south.  18° 


Now  to  the  sacred  enclosure  gathered  the  great- 
est and  least, 

And  from  under  the  shade  of  the  Banyan  arose 
the  voice  of  the  feast, 

The  frenzied  roll  of  the  drum,  and  a  swift,  mo- 
notonous song. 

Higher  the  sun  swam  up;  the  trade  wind  level 
and  strong 

Awoke  in  the  tops  of  the  palms  and  rattled  the 
fans  aloud, 

And  over  the  garlanded  heads  and  shining  robes 
of  the  crowd 

Tossed  the  spiders  of  shadow,  scattered  the  jewels 
of  sun. 

Forty  the  tale  of  the  drums,  and  the  forty 
throbbed  like  one ; 

A  thousand  hearts  in  the  crowd,  and  the  even 
chorus  of  song, 


324  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

Swift  as  the  feet  of  a  runner,  trampled  a  thou- 
sand strong.  190 

And  the  old  men  leered  at  the  ovens  and  licked 
their  lips  for  the  food ; 

And  the  women  stared  at  the  lads,  and  laughed 
and  looked  to  the  wood. 

As  when  the  sweltering  baker,  at  night,  when 
the  city  is  dead, 

Alone  in  the  trough  of  labor  treads  and  fashions 
the  bread ; 

So  in  the  heat,  and  the  reek,  and  the  touch  of 
woman  and  man, 

The  naked  spirit  of  evil  kneaded  the  hearts  of 
the  clan. 


Now  cold  was  at  many  a  heart,  and  shaking  in 
many  a  seat ; 

For  there  were  the  empty  baskets,  but  who  was 
to  furnish  the  meat? 

For  here  was  the  nation  assembled,  and  there 
were  the  ovens  anigh, 

And  out  of  a  thousand  singers  nine  were  num- 
bered to  die,  200 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  325 

Till,  of  a  sudden,  a  shock,  a  mace  in  the  air,  a  yell, 

And,  struck  in  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  the  first 
of  the  victims  fell.s 

Terror  and  horrible  glee  divided  the  shrinking 
clan, 

Terror  of  what  was  to  follow,  glee  for  a  diet  of 
man. 

Frenzy  hurried  the  chaunt,  frenzy  rattled  the 
drums ; 

The  nobles,  high  on  the  terrace,  greedily  mouthed 
•their  thumbs ; 

And  once  and  again  and  again,  in  the  ignorant 
crowd  below, 

Once  and  again  and  again  descended  the  mur- 
derous blow. 

Now  smoked  the  oven,  and  now,  with  the  cutting 
lip  of  a  shell, 

A  butcher  of  ninety  winters  joined  the  bodies 
well.  2l° 

Unto  the  carven  lodge,  silent,  in  order  due, 

The  grandees  of  the  nation  one  after  one  with- 
drew ; 

And  a  line  of  laden  bearers  brought  to  the  ter- 
race foot, 


326  THE   FEAST  OF   FAMINE: 

On  poles  across  their  shoulders,  the  last  reserve 
of  fruit. 

The  victims  bled  for  the  nobles  in  the  old  ap- 
pointed way ; 

The  fruit  was  spread  for  the  commons,  for  all 
should  eat  to-day. 

And  now  was  the  kava  brewed,  and  now  the 
cocoa  ran, 

Now  was  the  hour  of  the  dance  for  child  and 
woman  and  man; 

And  mirth  was  in  every  heart,  and  a  garland  on 
every  head, 

And  all  was  well  with  the  living  and  well  with 
the  eight  who  were  dead.  22° 

Only  the  chiefs  and  the  priest  talked  and  con- 
sulted awhile : 

"To-morrow/'  they  said,  and  "To-morrow,"  and 
nodded  and  seemed  to  smile : 

"Rua  the  child  of  dirt,  the  creature  of  common 
clay, 

Rua  must  die  to-morrow,  since  Rua  is  gone  to- 
day." 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  327 

Out  of  the  groves  of  the  valley,  where  clear  the 

blackbirds  sang, 
Sheer  from  the  trees  of  the  valley  the  face  of  the 

mountain  sprang ; 

Sheer  anclt  bare  it  rose,  unscalable  barricade, 
Beaten    and    blown    against    by    the    generous 

draught  of  the  trade. 

Dawn  on  its  fluted  brow  painted  rainbow  light, 
Close  on  its  pinnacled  crown  trembled  the  stars 

at  night.  23° 

Here   and  there   in   a  cleft  clustered  contorted 

trees, 
Or  the  silver  beard  of  a  stream  hung  and  swung 

in  the  breeze. 
High  overhead,  with  a  cry,  the  torrents  leaped. 

for  the  main, 
And  silently  sprinkled  below  in  thin  perennial 

rain. 

Dark  in  the  staring  noon,  dark  was  Rua's  ravine, 
Damp  and  cold  was  the  air,  and  the  face  of  the 

cliffs  was  green. 
Here,  in  the  rocky  pit,  accursed  already  of  old, 


328  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

On  a  stone  in  the  midst  of  a  river,  Rua  sat  and 
was  cold. 


"Valley   of  mid-day  shadows;   valley  of   silent 

falls," 
Rua  sang,  and  his  voice  went  hollow  about  the 

walls,  *4<> 

"Valley  of  shadow  and  rock,  a  doleful  prison 

to  me, 
What  is  the  life  you  can  give  to  a  child  of  the 

sun  and  the  sea?" 

And  Rua  arose  and  came  to  the  open  mouth  of 
the  glen, 

Whence  he  beheld  the  woods,  and  the  sea,  and 
houses  of  men. 

Wide  blew  the  riotous  trade,  and  smelt  in  his 
nostrils  good; 

It  bowed  the  boats  on  the  bay,  and  tore  and 
divided  the  wood; 

It  smote  and  sundered  the  groves  as  Moses  smote 
with  the  rod, 

And  the  streamers  of  all  the  trees  blew  like  ban- 
ners abroad; 


MARQUES  AX  MAXXERS.  329 

And  ever  and  on,  in  a  lull,  the  trade  wind  brought 

him  along 
A  far-off  patter  of  drums  and  a  far-off  whisper 

of  song.  250 

Swift  as  the  swallow's  wings,  the  diligent  hands 

on   the  drum 
Fluttered  and  hurried  ami  throbbed.     "Ah,  woe 

that  I  hear  you  come," 

Rua  cried  in  his  grief,  "a  sorrowful  sound  to  me, 
Mounting  far  and  faint  from  the  resonant  shore 

of  the  sea ! 
Woe  in  the  song!  for  the  grave  breathes  in  the 

singers'  breath, 
And  I  hear  in  the  tramp  of  the  drums  the  .beat 

of  the  heart  of  death. 
Home  of  my  youth!  no  more,  through  all  the 

length  of  the  years, 
No  more  to  the  place  of  the  echoes  of  early 

laughter  and  tears, 

No  more  shall  Rua  return ;  no  more  as  the  even- 
ing ends, 
To  crowded  eyes  of  welcome,  to  the  reaching 

hands  of  friends."  26° 


330  THE  FEAST   OP   FAMINE: 

All  day  long  from  the  High-place  the  drums  and 
the  singing  came, 

And  the  even  fell,  and  the  sun  went  down,  a 
wheel  of  flame ; 

And  night  came  gleaning  the  shadows  and  hush- 
ing the  sounds  of  the  wood ; 

And  silence  slept  on  all,  where  Rua  sorrowed 
and  stood. 

But  still  from  the  shore  of  the  bay  the  sound  of 
the  festival  rang, 

And  still  the  crowd  in  the  High-place  danced 
and  shouted  and  sang. 

Now  over  all  the  isle  terror  was  breathed  abroad 
Of  shadowy  hands  from  the  trees  and  shadowy 

snares  in  the  sod ; 
And  before  the  nostrils  of  night,  the  shuddering 

hunter  of  men 
Hurried,   with  beard  on   shoulder,  back  to  his 

lighted  den.  27° 

"Taheia,    here   to   my   side !" — "Rua,    my   Rua, 

you !" 
And  cold  from  the  clutch  of  terror,  cold  with 

the  damp  of  the  dew, 


MARQUES  AX  MANNERS.  331 

Taheia,  heavy  of  hair,  leaped  through  the  dark 

to  his  arms ; 
Taheia  leaped  to  his  clasp,  and  was  folded  in 

from  alarms. 

"Rua,   beloved,   here,   see   what   your  love   has 

brought ; 
Coming — alas !   returning — swift   as   the   shuttle 

of  thought ; 
Returning,   alas !   for   to-night,  with   the  beaten 

drum  and  the  voice, 
In  the  shine  of  many  torches  must  the  sleepless 

clan  rejoice; 
And  Taheia  the  well-descended,  the  daughter  of 

chief  and  priest, 
Taheia   must   sit   in   her   place   in  the  crowded 

bench  of  the  feast."  280 

So  it  was  spoken ;  and  she,  girding  her  garment 

high, 
Fled  and  was  swallowed  of  woods,  swift  as  the 

sight  of  an  eye. 

Night  over  isle  and  sea  rolled  her  curtain  of 
stars. 


332  THE   FEAST   OF   FAMIXE: 

Then  a  trouble  awoke  in  the  air,  the  east  was 
banded  with  bars ; 

Dawn  as  yellow  as  sulphur  leaped  on  the  mount- 
ain height ; 

Dawn,  in  the  deepest  glen,  fell  a  wonder  of  light ; 

High  and  clear  stood  the  palms  in  the  eye  of  the 
brightening  east, 

And  lo!  from  the  sides  of  the  sea  the  broken 
sound  of  the  feast ! 

As,  when  in  days  of  summer,  through  open  win- 
dows, the  fly 

Swift  as  a  breeze  and  loud  as  a  trump  goes  by, 

But  when  frosts  in  the  field  have  pinched  the 
wintering  mouse. 

Blindly  noses  and  buzzes  and  hums  in  the  fire- 
lit  house: 

So  the  sound  of  the  feast  gallantly  trampled  at 
night, 

So  it  staggered  and  drooped,  and  droned  in  the 
morning  light. 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  333 

IV.    THE   RAID. 

It  chanced  that  as  Rtia  sat  in  the  valley  of  silent 
falls, 

He  heard  a  calling  of  doves  from  high  on  the 
cliffy  walls. 

Fire  had  fashioned  of  yore,  and  time  had  broken, 
the  rocks; 

There  were  rooting  crannies  for  trees  and  nest- 
ing-places for  flocks;    ' 

And  he  saw  on  the  top  of  the  cliffs,  looking  up 
from  the  pit  of  the  shade, 

A  flicker^of  wings  and  sunshine,  and  trees  that 
swung  in  the  trade.  300 

"The  trees  swing  in  the  trade,"  quoth  Rua,  doubt- 
ful of  words, 

"And  the   sun   stares   from  the   sky,  but   what 
should  trouble  the  birds?" 

Up  from  the  shade  he  gazed,  where  high  the 

parapet  shone, 

.    And  he  was  aware  of  a  ledge  and  of  things  that 
moved  thereon. 


334  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

"What  manner  of  things  are  these?    Are  they 

spirits  abroad  by  day? 
Or  the  foes  of  my  clan  that  are  come,  bringing 

death  by  a  perilous  way?" 

The  valley  was  gouged  like  a  vessel,  and  round 

like  the  vessel's  lip, 
With  a  cape  of  the  side  of  the  hill  thrust  forth 

like  the  bows  of  a  ship. 
On  the  top  of  the  face  of  the  cape  a  volley  of  sun 

struck  fair, 
And  the  cape  overhung  like  a  chin  a  gulph  of 

sunless  air.  310 

"Silence,  heart!    What  is  that?— that,  that  flick- 
ered and  shone, 
Into  the  sun  for  an  instant,  and  in  an  instant 

gone? 
Was  it  a  warrior's  plume,  a  warrior's  girdle  of 

hair? 
Swung  in  the  loop  of  a  rope,  is  he  making  a 

bridge  of  the  air?" 

Once  and  again  Rua  saw,  in  the  trenchant  edge 
of  the  sky, 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  335 

The  giddy  conjuring  done.     And  then,  in  the 

blink  of  an  eye, 
A  scream  caught  in  with  the  breath,  a  whirling 

packet  of  limbs, 
A  lump  that  dived  in  the  gulph,  more  swift  than 

a  dolphin  swims ; 
And  there  was  the  lump  at  his  feet,  and  eyes  were 

alive  in  the  lump. 
Sick  was  the  soul  of  Rua,  ambushed  close  in  a 

clump ;  320 

Sick  of  soul  he  drew  near,  making  his  courage 

stout ; 
And  he  looked  in  the  face  of  the  thing,  and  the 

life  of  the  thing  went  out. 
And  he  gazed  on  the  tattooed  limbs,  and,  behold, 

he  knew  the  man : 
Hoka,  a  chief  of  the  Vais,  the  truculent  foe  of 

his  clan : 
Hoka  a  moment  since  that  stepped  in  the  loop 

of  the  rope, 

Filled  with  the  lust  of  war,  and  alive  with  cour- 
age and  hope. 

Again  to  the  giddy  cornice  Rua  lifted  his  eyes, 


336  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

And  again  beheld  men  passing  in  the  armpit  of 

the  skies. 
"Foes  of  my  race!"  cried  Rua,  "the  mouth  of 

Rua  is  true: 
Never  a   shark   in  the  deep  is  nobler  of  soul 

than  you.  330 

There  was  never  a  nobler  foray,  never  a  bolder 

plan; 
Never  a  dizzier  path  was  trod  by  the  children  of 

man; 
And  Rua,  your  evil-dealer  through  all  the  days 

of  his  years, 
Counts  it  honour  to  hate  you,  honour  to  fall  by 

your  spears." 

And  Rua  straightened  his  back.  '"'O  Vais,  a 
scheme  for  a  scheme !" 

Cried  Rua  and  turned  and  descended  the  turbu- 
lent stair  of  the  stream, 

Leaping  from  rock  to  rock  as  the  water-wagtail 
at  home 

Flits  through  resonant  valleys  and  skims  by 
boulder  and  foam. 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  337 

And  Rua  burst  from  the  glen  and  leaped  on  the 
shore  of  the  brook. 

And  straight  for  the  roofs  of  the  clan  his  vigor- 
ous way  he  took.  34° 

Swift  were  the  heeJs  of  his  flight,  and  loud  be- 
hind as  he  went 

Rattledi  the  leaping  stones  on  the  line  of  his  long 
descent. 

And  ever  he  thought  as  he  ran,  and  caught  at  his 
gasping  breath, 

"O  the  fool  of  a  Rua,  Rua  that  runs  to  his  death ! 

But  the  right  is  the  right,"  thought  Rua,  and  ran 
like  the  wind  on  the  foam, 

"The  right  is  the  right  for  ever,  and  home  for 
ever  home. 

For  what  though  the  oven  smoke?  And  what 
though  I  die  ere  morn  ? 

There  was  I  nourished  and  tended,  and  there  was 
Taheia  born." 

Noon  was  high  on  the  High-place,  the  second 
noon  of  the  feast ; 

And  heat  and  shameful  slumber  weighed  on  peo- 
ple and  priest;  35° 


338  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

And  the  heart  drudged  slow  in  bodies  heavy  with 

monstrous  meals; 
And  the  senseless  limbs  were  scattered  abroad 

like  spokes  of  wheels; 
And   crapulous    women   sat   and   stared  at  the 

stones  anigh 
With  a  bestial  droop  of  the  lip  and  a  swinish 

rheum  in  the  eye. 
As  about  the  dome  of  the  bees  in  the  time  for 

the  drones  to  fall, 
The  dead  and  the  maimed  are  scattered,  and  lie, 

and  stagger,  and  crawl; 
So  on  the  grades  of  the  terrace,  in  the  ardent  eye 

of  the  day, 
The  half-awake  and  the  sleepers  clustered  and 

crawled  and  lay ; 
And  loud  as  the  dome  of  the  bees,  in  the  time  of 

a  swarming  horde, 

A  horror  of  many  insects  hung  in  the  air  and 
roared.  360 

Rua  looked  and  wondered ;  he  said  to  himself  in 
his  heart: 


THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE:  339 

"Poor  are  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  death  is  the 

better  part." 

But  lo!  on  the  higher  benches  a  cluster  of  tran- 
quil folk 
Sat  by  themselves,  nor  raised  their  serious  eyes, 

nor  spoke : 
Women  with  robes  unruffled  and  garlands  duly 

arranged, 
Gazing  far  from  the  feast  with  faces  of  people 

estranged ; 
And  quiet  amongst  the  quiet,  and  fairer  than  all 

the  fair, 

Taheia,  the  well-descended,  Taheia,  heavy  of  hair. 
And  the  soul  of  Rua  awoke,  courage  enlightened 

his  eyes, 
And  he  uttered  a  summoning  shout  and  called  on 

the  clan  to  rise.  37° 

Over  against  him  at  once,  in  the  spotted  shadte 

of  the  trees, 
Owlish    and   blinking   creatures    scrambled    to 

hands  and  knees; 


340  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE: 

On  the  grades  of  the  sacred  terrace,  the  drivel- 
ler woke  to  fear, 

And  the  hand  of  the  ham-drooped  warrior  bran- 
dished a  wavering  spear. 

And  Rua  folded  his  arms,  and  scorn  discovered 
his  teeth ; 

Above  the  war-crowd  gibbered,  and  Rua  stood 
smiling  beneath. 

Thick,  like  leaves  in  the  autumn,  faint,  like  April 

sleet, 
Missiles  from  tremulous  hands  quivered  around 

his  feet ; 

And  Taheia  leaped  from  her  place ;  and  the  priest, 
the  ruby-eyed, 

Ran  to  the  front  of  the  terrace,  and  brandished 
his  arms,  and  cried :  380 

"Hold,  O  fools,  he  brings  tidings !"  and  "Hold, 
'tis  the  love  of  my  heart !" 

Till  lo !  in  front  of  the  terrace,  Rua  pierced  with 
a  dart. 

Taheia  cherished  his  head,  and  the  aged  priest 
stood  by, 


MARQUES  AN  MANNERS.  341 

And  gazed  with  eyes  of  ruby  at  Rua's  darkening 

eye. 

"Taheia,  here  is  the  end,  I  die  a  death  for  a  man. 
I  have  given  the  life  of  my  soul  to  save  an  un- 

savahle  clan. 
See  them,  the  drooping  of  hams !  behold  me  the 

blinking  crew : 

Fifty  spears  they  cast,  and  one  of  fifty  true ! 
And  you,  O  priest,  the  foreteller,   foretell   for 

yourself  if  you  can, 
Foretell  the  hour  of  the  day  when  the  Vais  shall 

burst  on  your  clan !  390 

By  the  head  of  the  tapu  cleft,  with  death  and 

fire  in  their  hand, 
Thick  and  silent  like  ants,  the  warriors  swarm  in 

the  land." 

And  they  tell  that  when  next  the  sun  had  climbed 

to  the  noonday  skies, 
It  shone  on  the  smoke  of  feasting  in  the  country 

of  the  Vais. 


NOTES  TO  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE. 

In  this  ballad  1  have  strung  together  some  of  the  more 
striking  particularities  of  the  Marquesas.  It  rests  upon 
no  authority;  it  is  in  no  sense,  like  "Rahero,"  a  native 
story;  but  a  patchwork  of  details  of  manners  and  the 
impressions  of  a  traveller.  It  may  seem  strange,  when 
the  scene  is  laid  upon  these  profligate  islands,  to  make 
the  story  hinge  on  love.  But  love  is  not  less  known  in 
the  Marquesas  than  elsewhere ;  nor  is  there  any  cause  of 
suicide  more  common  in  the  islands. 

Note  i,  verse  2.  "Pit  of  Popoi."  Where  the  bread- 
fruit was  stored  for  preservation. 

Note  2,  verse  15.  "Ruby-red."  The  priests  eyes  were 
probably  red  from  the  abuse  of  Rava.  His  beard  (verse 
18)  is  said  to  be  worth  an  estate;  for  the  beards  of  old 
men  are  the  favourite  head  adornments  of  the  Marque- 
sans,  as  the  hair  of  women  formed  their  most  costly 
girdle.  The  former,  among  this  generally  beardless  and 
short-lived  people,  fetch  to-day  considerable  sums. 

Note  3.  verse  72.  "The  one-stringed  Jiarp."  Usually 
employed  for  serenades. 

Note  5,  verse  105.  "The  sacred  cabin  of  palm." 
Which,  however,  no  woman  could  approach.  I  do  not 
know  where  women  were  tattooed ;  probably  in  the  com- 

342 


NOTES  TO  THE  FEAST  OF  FAMINE.     343 

mon  house,  or  in  the  bush,  for  a  woman  was  a  creature 
of  small  account.  I  must  guard  the  reader  against  sup- 
posing Taheia  was  at  all  disfigured ;  the  art  of  the  Mar- 
quesan  tattooer  is  extreme ;  and  she  would  appear  to  be 
clothed  in  a  web  of  lace,  inimitably  delicate,  exquisite  in 
pattern,  and  of  a  bluish  hue  that  at  once  contrasts  and 
harmonizes  with  the  warm  pigment  of  the  native  skin. 
It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  woman  more  becomingly 
adorned  than  "a  well-tattooed"  Marquesan. 

Note  6,  verse  149.  "The  horror  of  night."  The  Poly- 
nesian fear  of  ghosts  and  of  the  dark  has  been  already 
referred  to.  Their  life  is  beleaguered  by  the  dead. 

Note  7,  verse  165.  "The  quiet  passage  of  souls."  So, 
I  am  told,  the  natives  explain  the  sound  of  a  little  wind 
passing  overhead  unfelt. 

Note  8,  verse  202.  "The  first  of  the  victims  fell." 
Without  doubt,  this  whole  scene  is  untrue  to  fact.  The 
victims  were  disposed  of  privately  and  some  time  be- 
fore. And  indeed  I  am  far  from  claiming  the  credit  of 
any  high  degree  of  accuracy  for  this  ballad.  Even  in  a 
time  of  famine,  it  is  probable  that  Marquesan  life  went 
far  more  gaily  than  is  here  represented.  But  the  melan- 
choly of  to-day  lies  on  the  writer's  mind. 


TICONDEROGA. 


TICONDEROGA:    A    LEGEND    OF    THE 
WEST  HIGHLANDS. 

This  is  the  tale  of  the  man 

Who  heard  a  word  in  the  night 
In  the  land  of  the  heathery  hills, 

In  the  days  of  the  feud  and  the  fight. 
By  the  sides  of  the  rainy  sea, 

Where  never  a  stranger  came, 
On  the  awful  lips  of  the  dead, 

He  heard  the  outlandish  name. 
It  sang  in  his  sleeping  ears, 

It  hummed  in  his  waking  head :  «> 

The  name  —  Ticonderoga, 

The  utterance  of  the  dead. 

I.     THE   SAYING  OF  THE   NAME. 

On  the  lock-sides  of  Appin, 

When  the  mist  blew  from  the  sea, 

A  Stewart  stood  with  a  Cameron : 
An  angry  man  was  he. 
347 


348  TICONDEROGA: 

The  blood  beat  in  his  ears, 

The  blood  ran  hot  to  his  head, 
The  mist  blew  from  the  sea. 

And  there  was  the  Cameron  dead.  20 

"O,  what  have  I  done  to  my  friend, 

O,  what  have  I  done  to  mysel', 
That  he  should  be  cold  and  dead, 

And  I  in  the  danger  of  all  ? 
Nothing  but  danger  about  me, 

Danger  behind  and  before, 
Death  at  wait  in  the  heather 

In  Appin  and  Mamore, 
Hate  at  all  of  the  ferries 

And  death  at  each  of  the  fords,  3° 

Camerons  priming  gunlocks 

And  Camerons  sharpening  swords." 

But  this  was  a  man  of  counsel. 

This  was  a  man  of  a  score, 
There  dwelt  no  pawkier  Stewart 

In  Appin  or  Mamore. 
He  looked  on  the  blowing  mist, 

He  looked  on  the  awful  dead, 
And  there  came  a  smile  on  his  face 

And  there  slipped  a  thought  in  his  head. 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS.  349 

Out  over  cairn  and  moss,  40 

Out  over  scrog  and  scaur, 
He  ran  as  runs  the  clansman 

That  bears  the  cross  of  war. 
His  heart  beat  in  his  body, 

His  hair  clove  to  his  face, 
When  he  came  at  last  in  the  gloaming 

To  the  dead  man's  brother's  place. 
The  east  was  white  with  the  moon, 

The  west  with  the  sun  was  red, 
And  there,  in  the  house-doorway, 

Stood  the  brother  of  the  dead. 

'I  have  slain  a  man  to  my  danger, 

I  have  slain  a  man  to  my  death. 
I  put  my  soul  in  your  hands," 

The  panting  Stewart  saith. 
"I  lay  it  bare  in  your  hands, 

For  I  know  your  hands  are  leal ; 
And  be  you  my  targe  and  bulwark 

From  the  bullet  and  the  steel."  6° 

Then  up  and  spoke  the  Cameron, 

And  gave  him  his  hand  again : 


350  TICONDEROGA: 

"There  shall  never  a  man  in  Scotland 

Set  faith  in  me  in  vain ; 
And  whatever  man  you  have  slaughtered, 

Of  whatever  name  or  line. 
By  my  s\\Tord  and  yonder  mountain, 

I  make  your  quarrel  mine.1 
I  bid  you  in  to  my  fireside, 

I  share  with  you  house  and  hall ;  7<> 

It  stands  upon  my  honour 

To  see  you  safe  from  all." 

It  fell  in  the  time  of  midnight, 

When  the  fox  barked  in  the  den, 
And  the  plaids  were  over  the  faces 

In  all  the  houses  of  men, 
That  as  the  living  Cameron 

Lay  sleepless  on  his  bed, 
Out  of  the  night  and  the  other  world, 

Came  in  to  him  the  dead.  80 

"My  blood  is  on  the  heather, 

My  bones  are  on  the  hill ; 
There  is  joy  in  the  home  of  ravens 

That  the  young  shall  eat  their  fill. 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS.  351 

My  blood  is  poured  in  the  dust, 

My  soul  is  spilled  in  the  air ; 
And  the  man  that  has  undone  me 

Sleeps  in  my  brother's  care." 

"I'm  wae  for  your  death,  my  brother, 

But  if  all  of  my  house  were  dead,  90 

I  couldna  withdraw  the  plighted  hand, 
Xor  break  the  word  once  said." 

"O,  what  shall  I  say  to  our  father, 

In  the  place  to  which  I  fare  ? 
O,  what  shall  I  say  to  our  mother, 

Who  greets  to  see  me  there? 
And  to  all  the  kindly  Camerons 

That  have  lived  and  died  long  syne — 
Is  this  the  word  you  send  them, 

Fause-hearted  brother  mine?"  100 

"It's  neither  fear  nor  duty, 

It's  neither  quick  nor  dead 
Shall  gar  me  withdraw  the  plighted  hand, 

Or  break  the  word  once  said." 
Thrice  in  the  time  of  midnight, 

When  the  fox  barked  in  the  den, 


352  TICONDEROGA: 

And  the  plaids  were  over  the  faces 

In  all  the  houses  of  men, 
Thrice  as  the  living  Cameron 

Lay  sleepless  on  his  bed, 
Out  of  the  night  and  the  other  world 

Came  in  to  him  the  dead. 
And  cried  to  him  for  vengeance 

On  the  man  that  laid  him  low ; 
And  thrice  the  living  Cameron 

Told  the  dead  Cameron,  Xo. 

"Thrice  have  you  seen  me,  brother, 

But  now  shall  see  me  no  more, 
Till  you  meet  your  angry  fathers 

Upon  the  farther  shore. 
Thrice  have  I  spoken,  and  now, 

Before  the  cock  be  heard, 
I  take  my  leave  forever 

With  the  naming  of  a  word. 
It  shall  sing  in  your  sleeping  ears, 

It  shall  hum  in  your  waking  head, 
The  name — Ticonderoga, 

And  the  warning  of  the  dead." 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS.  353 

Now  when  the  night  was  over 

And  the  time  of  people's  fears,  J3» 

The  Cameron  walked  abroad, 

And  the  word  was  in  his  ears. 
"Many  a  name  I  know, 

But  never  a  name  like  this ; 
O,  where  shall  I  find  a  skilly  man 

Shall  tell  me  what  it  is?" 
With  many  a  man  he  counselled 

Of  high  and  low  degree, 
With  the  herdsmen  on  the  mountains 

And  the  fishers  of  the  sea.  J4° 

And  he  came  and  went  unweary, 

And  read  the  books  of  yore, 
And  the  runes  that  were  written  of  old 

On  stones  upon  the  moor. 
And  many  a  name  he  was  told, 

But  never  the  name  of  his  fears — 
Never,  in  east  or  west, 

The  name  that  rang  in  his  ears : 
Names  of  men  and  of  clans, 

Names  for  the  grass  and  the  tree,  J5° 

For  the  smallest  tarn  in  the  mountains, 

The  smallest  reef  in  the  sea: 


354  T1CONDEROGA: 

Names  for  the  high  and  low. 

The  names  of  the  craig  and  the  flat ; 
But  in  all  the  land  of  Scotland, 

Xever  a  name  like  that. 

II.    THE  SEEKING  OF     THE  NAME. 

And  now  there  was  speech  in  the  south, 

And  a  man  of  the  south  that  was  wise, 
A  periwig'd  lord  of  London,2 

Called  on  the  clans  to  rise.  160 

And  the  riders  rode,  and  the  summons 

Came  to  the  western  shore. 
To  the  land  of  the  sea  and  the  heather, 

To  Appin  and  Mamore. 
It  called  on  all  to  gather 

From  every  scrog  and  scaur, 
That  loved  their  fathers'  tartan 

And  the  ancient  game  of  war. 
And  down  the  watery  valley 

And  up  the  windy  hill,  *7<> 

Once  more,  as  in  the  olden, 

The  pipes  were  sounding  shrill ; 
Again  in  highland  sunshine 

The  naked  steel  was  bright ; 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS.  355 

And  the  lads,  once  more  in  tartan, 
Went  forth  again  to  fight. 

/ 
"O,  why  should  I  dwell  here 

With  a  weird  upon  my  life, 
When  the  clansmen  shout  for  battle 

And  the  war-swords  clash  in  strife?         l8° 
I  cannae  joy  at  feast, 

I  cannae  sleep  in  bed, 
For  the  wonder  of  the  word 

And  the  warning  of  the  dead. 
It  sings  in  my  sleeping  ears, 

It  hums  in  my  waking  head, 
The  name  —  Ticonderoga, 

The  utterance  of  the  dead. 
Then  up,  and  with  the  fighting  men 

To  march  away  from  here,  *9° 

Till  the  cry  of  the  great  war-pipe 

Shall  drown  it  in  my  ear!" 

Where  flew  King  George's  ensign 

The  plaided  soldiers  went: 
They  drew  the  sword  in  Germany, 

In  Flanders  pitched  the  tent. 


356  TICONDEROGA: 

The  bells  of  foreign  cities 

Rang  far  across  the  plain : 
They  passed  the  happy  Rhine, 
'  They  drank  the  rapid  Main.  200 

Through  Asiatic  jungles 

The  Tartans  filed  their  way, 
And  the  neighing  of  the  war-pipes 

Struck  terror  in  Cathay.3 
"Many  a  name  have  I  heard,"  he  thought, 

"In  all  the  tongues  of  men, 
Full  many  a  name  both  here  and  there, 

Full  many  both  now  and  then. 
When  I  was  at  home  in  my  father's  house 

In  the  land  of  the  naked  knee,  210 

Between  the  eagles  that  fly  in  the  lift 

And  the  herrings  that  swim  in  the  sea, 
And  now  that  I  am  a  captain-man 

With  a  braw  cockade  in  my  hat — 
Many  a  name  have  I  heard/'  he  thought, 

"But  never  a  name  like  that." 

HIS     THE   PLACE   OF   THE   NAME. 

There  fell  a  war  in  a  woody  place, 
Lay  far  across  the  sea, 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS.  357 

A  war  of  the  march  in  the  mirk  midnight 
And  the  shot  from  behind  the  tree,  220 

The  shaven  head  and  the  painted  face, 
The  silent  foot  in  the  wood, 

In  a  land  of  a  strange,  outlandish  tongue 
That  was  hard  to  be  understood. 

It  fell  about  the  gloaming 

The /general  stood  with  his  staff, 
He  stood  and  he  looked  east  and  west 

With  little  mind  to  laugh. 
"Far  have  I  been  and  much  have.I  seen, 

And  kent  both  gain  and  loss,  230 

But  here  we  have  woods  on  every  hand 

And  a  kittle  water  to  cross. 
Far  have  I  been  and  much  have  I  seen, 

But  never  the  beat  of  this ; 
And  there's  one  must  go  down  to  that  waterside 

To  see  how  deep  it  is." 

It  fell  in  the  dusk  of  the  night 

When  unco  things  betide, 
The  skilly  captain,  the  Cameron, 

Went  down  to  that  waterside.  24° 


358  TICONDEROGA: 

Canny  and  soft  the  captain  went ; 

And  a  man  of  the  woody  land, 
With  the  shaven  head  and  the  painted  face, 

Went  down  at  his  right  hand. 
It  fell  in  the  quiet  night, 

There  was  never  a  sound  to  ken ; 
But  all  of  the  woods  to  the  right  and  the  left 

Lay  filled  with  the  painted  men. 

\ 
"Far  have  I  been  and  much  have  I  seen, 

Both  as  a  man  and  boy, 
But  never-have  I  set  forth  a  foot 

On  so  perilous  an  employ.'' 
It  fell  in  the  dusk  of  the  night 

When  unco  things  betide, 
That  he  was  aware  of  a  captain-man 

Drew  near  to  the  waterside. 
He  was  aware  of  his  coming 

Down  in  the  gloaming  alone ; 
And  he  looked  in  the  face  of  the  man 

And  lo !  the  face  was  his  own. 

"This  is  my  weird,"  he  said, 
"And  now  I  ken  the  worst; 


THE  WEST  HIGHLANDS.  359 

For  many  shall  fall  the  morn, 

But  I  shall  fall  with  the  first. 
O,  you  of  the  outland  tongue, 

You  of  the  painted  face, 
This  is  the  place  of  my  death ; 

Can  you  tell  me  the  name  of  the  place  ?" 

"Since  the  Frenchmen  have  been  here 

They  have  called  it  Sault-Marie;  27<> 

But  that  is  a  name  for  priests, 

And  not  for  you  and  me. 
It  went  by  another  word," 

Quoth  he  of  the  shaven  head : 
"It  was  called  Ticonderoga 

In  the  days  of  the  great  dead." 
And  it  fell  on  the  morrow's  morning, 

In  the  fiercest  of  the  fight, 
That  the  Cameron  bit  the  dust 

As  he  foretold  at  night ; 
And  for  fram  the  holls  of  heather, 

Far  from  the  isles  of  the  sea, 
He  sleeps  in  the  place  of  the  name, 

As  it  was  doomed  to  be. 


NOTES  TO  TICONDEROGA. 

INTRODUCTION. — I  first  heard  this  legend  of  my  own 
country  from  that  friend  of  men  of  letters,  Mr.  Alfred 
Nutt,  "there  in  roaring  London's  central  stream" ;  and 
since  the  ballad  first  saw  the  light  of  day  in  Scribner's 
Magazine,  Mr.  Nutt  and  Lord  Archibald  Campbell  have 
been  in  public  controversy  on  the  facts.  Two  clans,  the 
Camerons  and  the  Campbells,  lay  claim  to  this 
bracing  story ;  and  they  do  well :  the  man  who  preferred 
his  plighted  troth  to  the  commands  and  menaces  of  the 
dead  is  an  ancestor  worth  disputing.  But  the  Campbells 
must  rest  content :  they  have  the  broad  lands  and  the 
broad  page  of  history ;  this  appanage  must  be  denied 
them ;  for  between  the  name  of  Cameron  and  that  of 
Campbell,  the  muse  will  never  hesitate. 

Note  i,  verse  68.  Mr.  Nutt  reminds  me  it  was  "by  my 
sword  and  Ben  Cruachan"  the  Cameron  swore. 

Note  2,  verse  159.  "A  periwig'd  lord  of  London." 
The  first  Pitt. 

Note  3,  verse  204.  "Cathay."  There  must  be  some 
omission  in  General  Stewart's  charming  "History  of  the 
Highland  Regiments."  a  book  that  might  well  be  repub- 
lished  and  continued ;  or  it  scarce  appears  how  our 
friend  could  have  got  to  China. 


360 


HEATHER  ALE. 


HEATHER  ALE:  A  GALLOWAY 
LEGEND. 

FROM  the  bonny  bells  of  heather 

They  brewed  a  drink  ong-syne, 
Was  sweeter  far  than  honey, 

Was  stronger  far  than  wine. 
They  brewed  it  and  they  drank  it, 

And  lay  in  a  blessed  swound 
For  days  and  days  together 

In  their  dwellings  underground. 

There  rose  a  king  in  Scotland, 

A  fell  man  to  his  foes, 
He  smote  the  Picts  in  battle, 

He  hunted  them  like  roes. 
Over  miles  of  the  red  mountain 

He  hunted  as  they  fled, 
And  strewed  the  dwarfish  bodies 

Of  the  dying  and  the  dead. 

Summer  came  in  the  country, 
Red  was  the  heather  bell ; 
363 


364  HEATHER  ALE: 

But  the  manner  of  the  brewing 

Was  none  alive  to  tell.  2Q 

In  graves  that  were  like  children's 

On  many  a  mountain  head, 
The  Brewsters  of  the  Heather 

Lay  numbered  with  the  dead. 

The  king  in  the  red  moorland 

Rode  on  a  summer's  day ; 
And  the  bees  hummed,  and  the  curlews 

Cried  beside  the  way. 
The  king  rode,  and  was  angry, 

Black  was  his  brow  and  pale,  3° 

To  rule  in  a  land  of  heather 

And  lack  the  Heather  Ale. 

It  fortuned  that  his  vassals, 

Riding  free  on  the  heath, 
Came  on  a  stone  that  was  fallen 

And  vermin  hid  beneath. 
Rudely  plucked  from  their  hiding, 

Never  a  word  they  spoke : 
A  son  and  his  aged  father — 

Last  of  the  dwarfish  folk.  4» 


A   GALLOWAY  LEGEND.  365 

The  king  sat  high  on  his  charger, 

He  looked  on  the  little  men  ; 
And  the  dwarfish  and  swarthy  couple 

Looked  at  the  king  again. 
Down  by  the  shore  he  had  them; 

And  there  on  the  giddy  brink — 
"I  will  give  you  life,  ye  vermin, 

For  the  secret  of  the  drink." 

There  stood  the  son  and  father 

And  they  looked  high  and  low;  5* 

The  heather  was  red  around  them, 

The  sea  rumbled  below. 
And  up  and  spoke  the  father, 

Shrill  was  his  voice  to  hear : 
"I  have  a  word  in  private, 

A  word  for  the  royal  ear. 

"Life  is  dear  to  the  aged, 

And  honour  a  little  thing ; 
I  would:  gladly  sell  the  secret," 

Quoth  the  Pict  to  the  King.  &> 

His  voice  was  small  as  a  sparrow's, 

And  shrill  and  wonderful  clear: 


HEATHER  ALE: 

"I  would  gladly  sell  my  secret, 
Only  my  son  I  fear. 

"For  life  is  a  little  matter, 

And  death  is  naught  to  the  young; 
And  I  dare  not  sell  my  honour 

Under  the  eye  of  my  son. 
Take  him,  O  king,  and  bind  him, 

And  cast  him  far  in  the  deep;  7° 

And  it's  I  will  tell  the  secret 

That  I  have  sworn  to  keep." 

They  took  the  son  and  bound  him, 

Xeck  and  heels  in  a  thong, 
And  a  lad  took  him  and  swung  him, 

And  flung  him  far  and  strong, 
And  the  sea  swallowed  his  body, 

Like  that  of  a  child  of  ten ; — 
And  there  on  the  cliff  stood  the  father, 

Last  of  the  dwarfish  men.  80 

"True  was  the  word  I  told  you: 
Only  my  son  I  feared ; 


A   GALLOWAY   LEGILXD.  367 

For  I  doubt  the  sapling  courage 

That  goes  without  the  beard. 
But  now  in  vain  is  tlje  torture, 

Fire  shall  never  avail : 
Here  dies  in  my  bosom 

The  secret  of  Heather  Ale." 


NOTE  TO  HEATHER  ALE. 

Among  the  curiosities  of  human  nature,  this  legend 
claims  a  high  place.  It  is  needless  to  remind  the  reader 
that  the  Picts  were  never  exterminated,  and  form  to  this 
day  a  large  proportion  of  the  folk  of  Scotland,  occupying 
the  eastern  and  the  central  parts,  from  the  Firth  of 
Forth,  or  perhaps  the  Lammermoors,  upon  the  south, 
to  the  Ord  of  Caithness  on  the  north.  That  the  blun- 
dering guess  of  a  dull  chronicler  should  have  inspired 
men  with  imaginary  loathing  for  their  own  ancestors  is 
already  strange:  that  it  should  have  begotten  this  wild 
legend  seems  incredible.  Is  it  possible  the  chronicler's 
error  was  merely  nominal  ?  that  what  he  told,  and  what 
the  people  proved  themselves  so  ready  to  receive,  about 
the  Picts.  was  true  or  partly  true  of  some  anterior  and 
perhaps  Lappish  savages,  small  of  stature,  black  of  hue, 
dwelling  underground — possibly  also  the  distillers  of 
some  forgotten  spirit?  See  Mr.  Campbell's  Tales  of  the 
West  Highlands. 


CHRISTMAS  AT  SEA. 


CHRISTMAS  AT  SEA. 

THE  sheets  were  frozen  hard,  and  they  cut  the 

naked  hand ; 
The  decks  were  like  a  slide,   where  a  seaman 

scarce  could  stand ; 
The  wind  was  a  nor'wester,  blowing  squally  off 

the  sea; 
And  cliffs  and  spouting  breakers  were  the  only 

things  a-lee. 

They  heard  the  surf  a-roaring  before  the  break 

of  day; 
But  'twas  only  with  the  peep  of  light  we  saw 

how  ill  we  lay. 
We  tumbled  every  hand  on  deck  instanter,  with  a 

shout, 
And  we  gave  her  the  maintops'l,  and  stood  by  to 

go  about. 

All  day  we  tacked  and  tacked  between  the  South 
Head  and  the  North ; 
371 


372  CHRISTMAS  AT  SEA. 

All  day  we  hauled  the  frozen  sheets,  and  got  no 
farther  forth ;  1° 

All  day  as  cold  as  charity,  in  bitter  pain  and 
dread, 

For  very  life  and  nature  we  tacked  from  head  to 
head. 

We  gave  the  South  a  wider  berth,  for  there  the 

tide-race  roared ; 
But  every  tack  we  made  we  brought  the  North 

Head  close  aboard: 
So's  we  saw  cliffs  and  houses,  and  the  breakers 

running  high, 
And  the  coastguard  in  his  garden,  with  his  glass 

against  his  eye. 

The  frost  was  on  the  village  roofs  as  white  as 

ocean  foam; 
The 'good  red  fires  were  burning  bright  in  every 

'longshore  home; 
The  windows  sparkled  clear,  and  the  chimneys 

volleyed  out ; 
And  I  vow  we  sniffed  the  victuals  as  the  vessel 

went  about.  20 


CHRISTMAS  AT  SEA.  373 

The  bells  upon  the  church  were  rung  with  a 
mighty  jovial  cheer; 

For  it's  just  that  I  should  tell  you  how  (of  all 
days  in  the  year) 

This  day  of  our  adversity  was  blessed  Christ- 
mas morn. 

And  the-  house  above  the  coastguard's  was  the 
house  where  I  was  born. 

O  well  I  saw  the  pleasant  roof,  the  pleasant  faces 

there, 
My  mother's  silver  spectacles,  my  father's  silver 

hair ; 
And  well  I  saw  the  firelight,   like  a  flight  of 

homely  elves, 
Go   dancing  round   the   china-plates  that   stand 

upon  the  shelves. 

And  well  I  knew  the  talk  they  had,  the  talk  that 

was  of  me, 
Of  the  shadow  on  the  household  and  the  son 

that  went  to  sea :  30 

And  O,  the  wicked  fool  I  seemed,  in  every  kind 

of  way, 


374  CHRISTMAS  AT  SEA. 

To  he  here  and  hauling  frozen  ropes  on  blessed 
Christmas  Day. 

They  lit  the  high  sea-light,  and  the  dark  began 
to  fall. 

"All  hands  to  loose  topgallant  sails,"  I  heard  the 
captain  call. 

"By  the  Lord,  she'll  never  stand  it,"  our  first 
mate,  Jackson,  cried. 

.  .  .  "It's  the  one  way  or  the  other,  Mr.  Jack- 
son," he  replied. 

She  staggered  to  her  bearings,  but  the  sails  were 

new  and  good, 
And  the   ship   smelt   up   to   windward   just   as 

though  she  understood. 
As  the  winter's  day  was  ending,  in  the  entry  of 

the  night, 
We  cleared  the  weary  headland,  and  passed  below 

the  light.  40 

And  they  heaved  a  mighty  breath,  every  soul  on 
board  but  me, 


CHRISTMAS  AT  SEA.  375 

As  they  saw  her  nose  again  pointing  handsome 

out  to  sea ; 
But  all  that  I  could  think  of,  in  the  darkness  and 

the  cold, 
Was  just  that  I  was  leaving  home  and  my  folks 

were  growing  old. 


7/3 


A     000  034  322     8 


A 


